Blood to Alcohol
by cloudsarefluffy
Summary: When you're a police officer, you're sworn to protect those in need. For Dean, this is a huge rule he lives by daily when he goes out onto patrol. It's just when things get truly hectic that he realizes just how devout he is when he decides to take Castiel Novak off grid himself. M for adult themes. Co-write. (link in first note)
1. Chapter 1

****Author's Note: _**

**First co-written story here with my lovely friend: u/5148867/earth-seraph or better as, Aus. :D**

**This fic is going to fucking kill you guys- I swear. There's so much fucking shit we have planned. AND THE SMUT THAT'S GOING TO APPEAR. MMMMM.**

**ENJOY!~**

* * *

Dean Winchester's not sure when his job started or ended- it's like an endless blur of days mixing into together and forming a blob in his skull, something he's sure will bite him in the ass later when it counts. It's like the badge he carries no longer has that flare he always saw when he first put it on, that special shine it had dimming when the light hit it. It was like that the five or six years he's been on the job has worn away it's special meaning. His suit is folded neatly on the arm of the couch- pressed, steamed, clean. It's seen brawls, sobbing victims, a few drunks here and there. Not much considering he started out small and was a complete newbie to the ropes.

Dean lives in the small border city of Atchison, Kansas. It's not much. Hardly anything if you really think about it or look and see it for a split second on a map. People stop here from Missouri to get to Kansas City or Topeka; sometimes it's people from Kansas that finally decided it was time to get out and needed a rest stop along their departure.

Dean scrunches his brow, the fading light streaming softly through his windows and curtains. He's got the late shift tonight, and it's Friday- meaning everyone's going to be out drinking and having a good time, except for him, of course. No, there's going to be a few drunk drivers here and there and an occasional woman who's so plastered she can't walk or talk straight- but Dean's gotten used to it by now. That's what happens to you if you're a cop for too long.

The coffee he makes is burnt and gritty, but he drinks it anyway. He doesn't have the patience to fix another pot- or the money to throw a full one out just because he wasn't paying attention and left it on the burner for too long. Along with the overdone tar that Dean was supposed to call coffee, he made himself a slice of toast. The crust burnt the pads of his fingers a little- but it doesn't matter because it's insignificant just as the taste of his sludge is. It's a shit "breakfast" for him, but it's better than having to patrol on a completely empty stomach.

His phone vibrates; it must be his partner and best friend, a honorary title- Sam Wesson.

He gets up, pulling the mobile off the coffee table and flips it open gingerly, Sam's text on the screen appearing before him, "_Hey- we've got a special job tonight. Be over at the office at seven instead of the usual spot._"

"**Will do- care to explain?**"

He swigs a bit more of his well done beverage before he looks at his partner's reply, "_It's something I have to do in person, trust me. There's too much to go over when it's a text- but I assure you, you'll get your explanation. At the office. At seven._"

"**Bitch.**"

"_Jerk._"

Dean snorts, setting his mug and plate in the sink to wash later. He catches a quick shower before he has to go down to the station. Right before he gets in his car, he gets his suit on. It fits snugly on him as he drives, the lights overhead whirring past on his way to see whatever the fuck he was supposed to be doing tonight. Dean's a little uneasy as to what Sam is going to tell him- but he's not too sure it's going to be good, considering he was an officer of the law- called upon whenever things went terribly, terribly wrong.

When he arrives to the station, there's a meeting in one of the conference rooms; all of the officers piled up into the small space with coffee and donuts. It seems a little cliche or a start of a bad joke- but as Dean walks up he sees it's a very serious and tense situation.

"We've got to do something!" a woman huffs, "We just can't sit here; having all those people still in there knowing what's going to happen!"

"There's nothing else to do that will work! They'll know about our mole if we try and stop it- or make anything seem out of the ordinary! We just have to come about this right!"

Sam sees Dean and looks relieved, "About time you showed up… The whole damn force is beside themselves."

Dean snorts, "Yeah I can tell- why does it look like some soap opera in there? What's going on?"

"What I was talking about in the text. You know our mole we have in the Morriston drug ring? Well, they recently found out there's some raid about to go down in the Bank of America on sixth tonight."

"You've got to be fucking joking!" Dean's mouth is a little agape as his words rush out to his partner, "They can't be pulling something like that! That's almost suicide! What's there anyways? We're such a small town it shouldn't matter!"

Sam sighs, "It seems so. But think about it. There's only about twelve people who are cops here- us included… That's the point: it's because we're so small and defenseless, Dean. Don't you see it? There's not a huge amount of officers, and we're several hours out of any city who can lend anyone to us. We're practically secluded!"

Dean bites his lower lip, mostly cursing to himself, "Shit..."

"That's right, it is shit. We have no idea what we're gonna do because we can't out ourselves because it'll make it obvious we know what's going to happen."

"So, what's the plan then? If we can't show up with guns blazing, how the fuck are we going to stop them from stealing anything or whatever?"

Sam shrugs, "I have no idea. I think you and I are going to be placed inside while they try to figure out who's behind this. We're going to try to stop them before anything happens."

Dean nods.

They get into the car that's waiting for them; a rental just in case anything like this ever happens and they need something undercover and discrete. Dean's fingers gripping the wheel as he drives, his uneasiness twisting itself onto his nerves like poisonous weeds. He's a little worried about what's going to happen, after all.

Somehow, the Morriston drug ring was managing to run rampant through Kansas in the past few years. Dean doesn't know why- considering there's better states to conduct that kind of business in- but he can't call out the shots for them. It's when they're about two blocks out from the bank Dean shuts off the flow of his thoughts. The pair strips themselves of their uniforms- deciding that they need to be completely undercover so that the ringers don't know they're onto them.

Dean's in faded jeans and a plain gray tee, his suit tucked into the trunk carefully next to Sam's. He's even got the special 1911 Colt with the ivory handles and engravings tucked into the dip of his back just in case. Dean finishes driving up to the Bank of America, eyes scanning the building for any sign of unusual activity. The beat his heart has gets faster.

"We'll just walk in- look for anything suspicious and just do our jobs, okay?"

Dean nods, "Yeah- because knowing about a crime before it happens makes it all the easier, doesn't it?"

They step inside, detecting everyone around them carefully. It's at least an hour before the bank closes, so there's only a certain window the Morristons have to strike. He's staring at and old women clutching her cane awkwardly when Sam motions him over.

"There, over by the potted plant. If he turns just enough you can see the gun on his waist."

Sure enough, as the man in question shifts a little, a shine appears that's obviously not a bell buckle, "Alright- go zero in and I'll try to clear people out and find those sons of a bitches."

It's all a blur really, because Sam's sprinting away suddenly with gun raised and Dean finds that he's running himself- except it's towards another man who has his own weapon pulled with a bank teller to it's barrel.

"Let him go!" Dean spits out, his Colt leaving the small of his back and into his trained hands, "I _will_ shoot you!"

"Go ahead!" The armed man shouts in a mixture of rage and adrenaline. His gaze flicking between Dean and the teller whose forehead is pressing against the end of his pistol, eyes looking towards Dean and the Colt. Fear is pouring off of him as he gets shoved a little and put in front, the armed man tightening the grip he has on his jacket when he snickers sinisterly, "See who you'll kill first."

Dean has a perfect aim on the armed man if the teller moves enough- about a square inch to the left. The barrel of his Colt is at the right angle to pierce a kidney or shoot through the man's lower back bone when he can have the split second to pull the trigger. Each is as fatal as the next.

But he doesn't know which he should take- there's too much that can go wrong in those precious seconds that are passing right before him. His finger slides further to the trigger, sweat gleaming on his forehead as he aims the shot up with the person's heart, also in aim with the teller's- those blue eyes going wild as he processes Dean's movements and readies himself for what's going to happen. What he doesn't expect is the explosion.

It's small, but for the compact room and the amount of people inside it's around nuclear in force and sound.

People fall like the gravitational pressure in the room changed tremendously and was forced on them. Screams and crumbling concrete pierce through the air as the cop's eardrums slightly ring from the blast. Dean frantically looks through the smoke and building flames, trying to see where the man and the teller went. People sprint past him, more dust and smoke filling his lungs as he coughs into his bare and bloody elbow.

His eyes as stinging as he yells out, "Where are you!?"

"Here! Over by the counter!"

Dean hears the voice, but doesn't see who's speaking because of the smoke and debris flittering through like ashen snowflakes. He holds the Colt tighter in his hands, cursing as he works his way around the bodies rushing past him towards the counter ten or five feet away. Dean finds the teller, the form of his shooter and broken blocks of mortar and the bank lying on top of him as he chokes on the tiles below. The cop sees his blue eyes stick out, the yellow and orange flames dancing on them as he grabs the hand reaching from the rubble and pulls him up.

"Can you walk?" Dean yells into his ear, his voice barely coming through the cracking of the flames around them.

The teller looks at him, "I'm not sure… A huge chunk of the ceiling landed on my leg…"

"Shit..."

He lifts the teller's arm up and wraps it around his shoulder, finding the exit and preparing himself, "Come on, we're getting out of here."

The man leans on him, limping alongside Dean as they both cough and stutter out of the building. There's several bodies they pass- at least six, all still and unmoving. Two pairs of eyes linger on them as they slowly work their way out of the burning building.

There's so much smoke, too much as the wood gives out a bit behind them, specs of flame spit forth and nip Dean's exposed skin. His vision is blurring as hot tears slide down his gritty cheeks, lungs burning as the toxic fumes outweigh the oxygen as he coughs. The teller is sagging more and more onto Dean, his effort growing sluggish and weak. He's starting to feel like dead weight on his shoulder. Dean's just got to push- to make it to the door that's only a few precious feet away.

He collapses on the concrete steps, barely even outside the door, as he gasps out and vomits in the bushes a few inches away. He's coughing instead of breathing, his eyes burning just like the bank directly behind him. He can feel the hands grabbing him and picking him up, dragging him away to flashing lights. It's in slow motion, rain drops hitting his skin and collecting the grime of the building and fire with it. Dean feels the ache in his ribs, the drag of his muscles that are too weak to let him even stand. He feels like one of the corpses they're just starting to bring out from the torched skeleton of the bank- flames reaching up into the black and smoke-filled air.

"Dean!" Sam runs up, eyes darting all over his skin, "I was outside when the building just- exploded. Are you alright?"

Dean feels himself slip into cop mode. He always does when things get too much for him, "I'm fine, Sam. Just make sure the teller is okay- he should be in the other ambulance."

"You seem a little 'on the job' for just being in a building that's about to collapse-" the bank crumples as soon as the words left his mouth, "huh, the irony."

Dean shakes his head, the movement just a little too fast for him as his stomach lurches, "It's fine, Sammy… Just question him."

Sam's mouth is set in a straight line as he replies, "Can't."

"Why? He's right there-"

Dean shuts up as notices he's in the only ambulance left at the bank. People are still running about and the fire's still licking up at the sky, but he's still here. The teller isn't.

"I need to get to the hospital- I need to talk to him."

Dean starts to get up, several nurses and Sam pushing him back down onto the stretcher, "No Dean. Look, they're going to check you out and then we're going to go ask some questions. I don't want to be driving you to the hospital and have something go wrong."

"But I've go to-"

"_Get cleared before you go anywhere._ It's not a choice for you, Dean. You were in an explosion, were almost shot, and were nearly crushed in a burning building to top it off. You're getting 'okayed' before you do anything else- no other options until they clear you."

Dean grunts, letting the nurses work on him, "Fine.. But you're getting me a damn apple pie for this shit."

His partner laughs, "I'll keep that in mind."

Dean's slumping against the passenger seat as Sam drives. He's too winded to be, nerves too wound up and jumpy for the wheel to be at his control. Besides, it's not best to after the shit he's just been through. Either way it's a little disgruntling because Dean loves driving.

The other thing mainly bothering him are all these damn questions. Why the damn bank? Why the teller than any other pedestrian in the bank? Why was his head so fucking sore?

"Hey, calm yourself. The EMT said you had a mild concussion."

"Tonight's been rough as fuck, Sammy…" Dean groans, his head still aching as he set it against the headrest, "I don't even want to know how I'm going to feel in the morning."

Sam snorts, "Neither do I. Just don't drowse off, we're going to be there in five minutes."

The hospital isn't too much, several stories and up to date enough to take in the steady stream of patients. Tonight there's people rushing everywhere, Dean blinking at how many ambulances are lined up outside the building with their lights flashing about and it makes Dean want to shut his eyes. He feels the drop in his stomach a little, seeing his partner stare at the scene with hard eyes.

"This is the busiest they've ever been in years…" Sam mumbles mostly to himself.

Dean understands. He knows this is Sammy's hometown and it means a lot to him- it's why he joined the force here. He wanted to keep things safe and under control because it's where he grew up, where he scuffed his knees as a kid- where he truly felt at home. Dean gets it, because he sort of feels the same way about Lawrence- probably always will. It means it's so easy to see the slight tremble in Sammy's jaw and the sheen over his eyes, and Dean decides it's best to just leave it at that.

They get out of the car, Dean's legs not in their best condition, but tolerable enough to work. His partner guides him in and goes to the front desk.

"There was a man brought here- black hair and blue eyes, about twenty-two- do you know what room he's in?" Sam asks, pulling his badge out to show the woman.

She nods, "Oh- Castiel Novak- he's in room two hundred and six. Second floor."

Sammy nods, pulling Dean alongside him because he's starting to zone out. Dean knows he's does it whenever something or a case is getting to him, or the hours have taken their toll- but he can't help as the noises around him smush together and make a trainwreck of a soundtrack. It's only when he gets to the door of Castiel's room that his hearing relatively comes back, brain reassessing his surroundings now it's mostly worn off.

"I'm going to do most of the questioning, okay De-"

Dean's already pushing past Sam through the door, his partner huffing behind him. Dean walks in, seeing the teller he had pulled from the building- those same blue eyes from before staring straight at him just like they had as the bank burned around them. It's odd, not to see the fire dancing against them- but it's also a relief.

"I'm police officer Dean Winchester- this is my partner Sam Wesson. I know I'm the one who was in the bank, but we've got some questions to ask you."

Castiel seems to soften a little in his hospital bed, "Thanks for that… Just ask away- I'm really tired for obvious reasons."

Dean nods, sinking back into cop mode, "Do you know why your bank was a target for the Morriston ring?"

"Sadly I do…" Castiel fiddles with the clip on his finger, the pulse reader quickening a little, "Part of my job is to overlook accounts, see if there's any suspicious activity on them and to address it. Just the other day I stumbled on several accounts open with us here in town and they were- well, literally bringing in several thousand dollars a week. Five digits, at least."

Sam pulls Dean over for a quick second, "Can see why he got curious- no one here makes that kind of money."

Dean nods, taking in his partner's words and returning to the man in the bed before him, "So you did something with the accounts, I'm assuming?"

"I did… I froze them…" Castiel bites his lip, "Seems that was a mistake to have made. I guess afterwards they figured out who stopped their money flow and there was my name. I didn't know it was going to get this bad…"

"You say that like it was going on a little before this, why is that?"

Castiel sighs, "Because it was. They've been threatening me for several days. I didn't know it would lead up to… this."

Dean notices the slight tremble of Castiel's chin, foreboding to something Dean didn't want to deal with- at least not tonight. He looks over at Sam, motioning him to watch the door. The cop pulls up a chair, sitting next to Castiel because his legs feel like they're about to give out, his breath sounds like a sigh of relief once his weight is off his legs.

Castiel gets a moment, because Dean knows he needs one. It's from working the job so long that he knows by the gleam in someone's eye when they're pushed too far or it's become too much to process. He's sure Castiel is buckling under some invisible weight- one circumstance saddled him with, or one he gave himself. Either way, the man's trying to gain control of himself and he just needs a few seconds.

"So…" Dean begins softly, "They've been stalking you for a few weeks…"

Castiel nods, their voices hushed because he's more than likely feeling vulnerable, "Yeah… I won't be surprised if they find me here. It'll be obvious where I'm going, shouldn't it? Besides, they're the Morriston ring. Of course they'll find me."

Dean pricks up at Castiel's words, because it's true. As prominent and well funded as the Morriston ring was, they could easily find Castiel and do what they liked with him. The thought unsettled Dean, because as a cop his main rule was to keep everyone safe, or try to. He knows he just can't hand Castiel over to witness protection, that there are so many questionable people there it won't matter how well hidden Castiel might think he is- besides, there's records. What Castiel needs, is to go off grid and stay hidden.

"When's the earliest you can leave the hospital?"

"They said I'm just a little shaken and battered. The worst I got was a minor limp from that piece of ceiling. They said I can walk normally in a few days."

Dean nods, "Anything else?"

Castiel shakes his head, eyes narrowing a little, "No… Why are you asking me this?"

"Because-" Dean thinks about what he's going to do and sighs, "I'm going to make sure you don't get killed."

Castiel is about to ask more, but Dean's not one for giving answers when there's an issue to be dealt with. He's got to convince Sammy, take their car- he doesn't know. The cop does his best to think about what he can do to get himself and Castiel out of there before it's too late from him.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean says, the door open enough to where he can whisper to his partner, "I'm going to stay here with him just in case. You got a ride home you can catch?"

Sam pauses, looking a little confused, but nods eventually, "Uhh- yeah. I'll give Bobby a call and he can drop by. Be sure to drop it back by at later."

Dean nods, knowing full and well Sam will probably never see the car again.

Castiel is eyeing him as Dean runs a hand through his hair, "Try and get some sleep. I'll wake you when something happens."

The teller looks weary at first, then nods. He settles himself in the covers and gives a sigh, his face falling lax and chest rising and falling evenly. Dean stares at Castiel for a moment, letting his face get worn into his memory- because he's going to need it.

All Dean needs to do is get a few hours and then he can go.

**…**

It's a nurse that wakes Dean up, his neck stiff from passing out in the chair. She's got a smile on her face, it seems sympathetic- oh dear god. She thought Dean was here because Castiel was sick or something. Dean doesn't say anything however, because there's no point to. He's about to be running away with him shortly- or evading the Morristons.

Dean goes into the bathroom while the nurse does whatever she's supposed to with Castiel. Meanwhile, Dean's washing his face off with cold water in the small space to seep some wariness into his aching bones. He looks up into the mirror, seeing his reflection- and he hopes, hopes to whoever's listening that this is going to wind up okay for the both of them. He steps out, noticing that the nurse left and he shakes Castiel.

"Hey- we gotta move."

"But I have to be-"

Dean shakes his head, "Doesn't matter, I'm sure they're waiting till the records show that you're checked out. It's best to leave before you're discharged so they have the wrong information while we gun it. Can you get up?"

Castiel nods slightly, "I should be able to. My leg's not at a hundred percent so I'm unsure how this is going to work."

"Don't worry about it…" Dean helps pull him off the mattress, "I'm going to figure it out."

The cop looks out between the door frame and Castiel's room. He's searching for anyone who looks suspicious or an exit way that will get them outside and on the ground floor without causing too much attraction to them. He tightens the grip he has on Castiel's wrist- because he's got to keep him safe or near him, especially if there could be a Morriston around any corner waiting for them.

"Dean, what are you-"

"I'll explain once we're in the car. Until then, just keep quiet and do as I say."

Castiel still looks confused, but he nods and wraps his fingers onto Dean's belt loop.

"Alright, we're going to have to take the stairs for staff, okay? I'm going to have to get some scrubs for us- just wait here and stay in the bathroom with the door locked and only open it if I come knockin', alright?"

The ex-teller nods, "Okay, Dean. I trust you."

Dean nods, waiting till he hears the click of the lock to move. He's going to be five minutes, tops- and the cop speed walks down the hallway to a staff closet he saw on the way in. It's funny, that they haven't even gotten out of the hospital and Castiel already encloses him with his life. Such blind faith.

Dean unlocks the door with a pick he owns just in case, sliding through the open door. He guesses that he and Castiel are around the same size, the only major difference is the amount of muscle and height, so he grabs two pairs of scrubs that are the same size. Dean slides them underneath his shirt, trying to make it look like belly fat or something other than clothes tucked underneath his dirtied and burnt tee.

He shuts the door, running back up the hallway and entering Castiel's room. Dean does a quick sweep- no one in the room other than him. He raps on the door, quickly shutting the one to the room and waiting for Castiel.

"Dean?"

"Yeah it's me-" he starts untucking the scrubs from his clothes, "I got the stuff. It should fit."

Castiel steps out, taking the few clothes in his hand and looking away awkwardly, "Do you mind? …"

Dean stops pulling at the zipper of his jeans, remembering that he and Castiel are still strangers to each other- and here he is, about to pull down his pants as though he was best friends with him. Hell- he wouldn't do it with Sammy and they'd been working together for at least two years.

"Oh… Sorry…"

Dean clears his throat nervously as Castiel makes a small nod and shuts the door to the bathroom again. Dean's sure he's around a shade of red that would make an apple jealous, but he shrugs it off just like he does his clothes. He pulls bottom part of the scrubs over his skin, a little relieved to have ridden himself of all the cloth that still coated itself in dirt and singe marks.

Castiel steps out- or limps a little- the teal mixing in with the color of his eyes as Dean looks over. His shirt is still lying on the bed, and somehow he makes the look last a millisecond longer than he's comfortable with. Dean flings it over his head, biting his lip in a frustrated manner with his back turned to Castiel.

"Ready?"

"Yeah…" Dean walks over to help Castiel lean on him, "All we have to do is make it down those stairs and to the car."

The steps are a little hard to take, Castiel slumping onto Dean as they work their way down the steps. Dean's too sore and overworked to be doing this for two people, but he knows he has no other choice. That if he takes another way Castiel will be recognized or something else could go wrong. He couldn't have that happen- no, not at all.

Not when Castiel was fighting a war he didn't belong in, that he was a man who knew right from wrong and was only trying to do the moral thing. All it got him were death threats and nearly a building to collapse on top of him. So if Dean had to push himself, had to go rogue cop for Castiel's safety- he knew he could manage, especially when he thought about one of those bodies in the bank being Castiel's instead of someone who got really unlucky with the wrong surroundings and people.

Dean couldn't truly explain it if he tried.


	2. Chapter 2

****Author's Note: _**

**I'M TOO LAZY. **

**ENJOY!~**

* * *

"Dean-" Castiel closes the car door, sighing a breath outwards as he buckles, "What are we doing?"

"I'm taking you off grid, Castiel. If the Morriston ring is so apt on coming after you- then it's my job to keep you safe."

He quirks a brow, "Isn't that what witness protection does?"

Dean nods, "More or less… I just- … I can't hand you over to them- I just have this feeling in my gut, you know? The ones you get when you know something's going to go completely wrong or somethin'..."

"So you're saying…" Castiel pauses, "That even if I went with them I'd still have a target painted on my back?"

Dean nods, "Outlined in neon, most definitely."

Castiel lets his head fall back onto his seat, "So that's it, right? I'm coming with you on this- thing, to save my life?"

The soon to be ex-cop goes a little over the speed limit, "Yeah, that's the jist of it."

Castiel snorts. Then it turns into a chuckle, and then a laugh. Soon Castiel is holding his stomach and wiping at his eyes. Dean's a little confused- because nothing funny happened and Castiel should be afraid for his life. But here he is, laughing so hard he's crying in Dean's passenger seat.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing it's just-" he giggles a little more, "I barely even know you yet I fucking trust you- with my life, no less!"

Dean shrugs, "I did save you from the bank."

Castiel goes quiet at that. Dean supposes he hit a nerve, something too raw in Castiel right now- and he feels a little bad for it. He wants to say it's okay, or that he shouldn't have brought last night up- but they're already at Dean's house, so it's too late to apologize.

"Why are we stopping?"

Dean gets out, locking the doors before he shuts his, "I'm going to go inside, get a few things- and then we're going to fucking book it out of here."

His house is nothing much, never really was if Dean thinks about it. Its small, with one bedroom that's dingy. But its his house, it's his home. It's where he goes to sleep and night and wakes in the morning. It's where he burns his coffee and sometimes watches really bad horror films with Sam on his lumpy couch. It's where he reads a book every now and then on the small porch with the front door open as the cars hum past. It's the first place he bought when it came time for his independence and for the start of life on his own. His house fits him like a worn pair of jeans, nice and easy, loose from where it's gotten used to Dean's touch. Now, he has to throw those special jeans away like they were nothing more than a piece of cloth.

Dean walks up to his front door, feeling a little off about it being the last time he's going to pull his keys out and unlock deadbolts and enter. He bites his lower lip, swallowing his emotions back and turning the key, pulling the door open up to his darkened living room. It's just like he left it- shit coffee still in the pot and his dishes in the sink. It's going to spoil, and the cup and plate won't ever be clean again- and it's weird to know that when the realization emerges in his head.

He walks into the back room, getting several bags out and stuffing as much clothes as he can into them. It's just faded t-shirts and worn jeans, not much- but better than nothing because he knows he and Castiel won't have enough resources for a new wardrobe for the both of them. Dean has to remind himself to stop worrying, that it'll all be okay and they'll both be fine.

Half way through filling the bag, he stops. He looks at the sight in front of him. A bag with clothes that will never be in his closet again, a bed that will never lull him to sleep and keep him warm and comfortable as he slowly wakes. It's somber, really.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean's head shoots up, Castiel's voice scaring him a little. He gets a little angry that he left the car without permission, but decides it's better that he can actually watch him, "I'm fine, Cas… Don't worry about it…"

He seems to doubt him, eyes lingering on his for a few seconds with a concern Dean's never seen before, but it's gone as quickly as it came with a few seconds and replaced with something calm, "Can I help?"

"Sure…"

"What do I need to do?"

Dean sighs, "Closet, right there beside the bathroom. On the second shelf is some first aid supplies- take this bag and fill it as much as you can. We're not going to be able to go to a doctor's or hospital yet, so we're going to have to wing it from here on until I figure something out."

Castiel takes the bag between his fingertips, "Alright… If you need me to do anything else, just tell me."

The ex-cop nods, going back to shoving the few articles of clothing he owned into the bag. Once it's full, he takes a quick moment to go back into his closet, stomach uneasy to how empty and unused it looks- but he pushes through it. His fingers go up to the box of bullets and other items on the small shelf above the clothing rack. The knife he has nearly grazes his fingertip, it's reflective surface making a small line of light appear on the ceiling as Dean pulls it down. There's one more item, nothing much, but better than anything. It's a jar of coins- one Dean's been piling up for several years. It's leftover from late night coffee shop runs and energy drink purchases- and he's glad he has it.

"I got it packed, Dean." Castiel walks into the room, noticing all the items strewn about, especially the two guns and a knife lying on Dean's blankets, "I'll… I'll get some food together- prepackaged if I can find it… And water bottles..."

Dean nods, watching Castiel leave. He's still in the scrubs, not limping as bad as he was- so there's a plus. Dean sets out a small outfit for him, a faded Star Wars shirt and jeans with a hole in the right knee. He supposes he should change too, and does it quickly. There isn't much time.

Soon he and Cas have all of these things pulled together, and Dean pauses a moment in the living room right before he leaves. He runs over, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen, scrawling a quick letter to Sammy before he truly leaves Atchison for the last time.

'_Dear Sam,_  
_I'm so fucking sorry, Sam. I had to- especially when he told me they were after him. You know how I am, when people tell me they're scared or need help, and I drop everything for them in a split second. I guess that's what happening now- except on a larger scale._  
_I'm sorry if this ruins our partnership- because I know for fucking certain they aren't gonna let me back into the force after this- but I swear Sammy, I never wanted something like this to happen. Hell, I never thought it would- because it's so damn crazy and big- but it's gotta be done. I can't let them kill Cas- I just can't and I don't know why._  
_Maybe because I just see him in me, or something. Sounds sappy, I know- but it's true, Sammy. He's trying to do the right thing, and I can't have him murdered or worse over it- especially if I could have done something and kept him alive._  
_So I'm helping him hide- I don't know how really, or how long this is supposed to be, fuck- I don't have a damn clue. But I know it's going to work, I just really fucking hope in the end._  
_I'll figure something out- I always do. I'm a half-planned man and I think that's my best trait. Or- it may be my my worst. I hope if I ever do see you again it's not in a pine box or in a jail cell._  
_Sorry about the car, I have nothing else to resort to…_  
_It was fun being your partner._  
_-Dean_ '

Dean shuts the door, knows he's leaving his life behind in just a few steps- but he walks to the car anyways. Cas looks exhausted, head lolling to one side with his eyes fluttering closed as Dean gets in and starts the car.

"This is fucking crazy…" he mumbles, wrapping a small blanket around him.

"Yeah… I know."

Before he falls asleep, he says one last thing in a slurred voice, "Just wake me up in a few hours, I should be okay then… Thank you, Dean."

"You're welcome, Cas."

**…**

The highway rolls past while Cas sleeps, the radio buzzing faint songs from stations Dean doesn't care to memorize. He's got about five hours left in him of driving, if that- then he needs to sleep and just have some down time and shower. He sighs, grip on the steering wheel tightening as the line of trees blurs past.

"D-Dean? …" Cas mutters, head lifting slowly, "Where are we?"

"A few miles outside of Emporia. We're gonna stop there and rest up."

Castiel nods his head in affirmation and pulls the blanket tighter around his thin frame, eyeing the dashboard like it was the most interesting thing the universe had to offer at the moment.

"Something wrong?" Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head, "No… Why?"

"Just wondering, Cas."

"That's okay, Dean."

Dean nods, focusing back onto the road. He stops at a motel, using some of the cash he pulled out and sets it on the desk. The lady working at it smiles, putting it aside and having Dean sign some type of registry. He puts a fake name, of course- and is about to tell her to have a good day when she beats him to a conversation.

"So- you and your boyfriend traveling?"

Dean's tongue stills in his mouth, "Uhh- what?"

"It's okay to get flustered," she assures, "we're a sexuality accepting business. We don't mind as long as you two keep it down."

Dean wants to puke a little as she winks, the air growing awkward. He doesn't even try to deny it because he knows it won't do him any good. Dean only nods, grabbing the keys off the counter and nearly fumbling with them. He somehow makes it to the door without falling over or tripping.

"I'll keep that in mind…" Dean mumbles, twisting the door knob to exit.

Cas is waiting outside for him, leaning on the rental car with his hair ruffling a little in the breeze, his ankles casually crossed just like his forearms, "You look like you were almost skinned in there."

"You don't even want to know…" Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead with his index finger and thumb, his nerves bundling up and tangling- and he's sure the woman is staring at them from the reception desk.

"That bad or something?" Cas chuckles, a smiling brimming on his lips.

Dean shoots him a look that says, 'trust me, you don't wanna know' and Cas seems to catch onto it.

They enter the room, only one king sized bed lining the wall. Dean groans at the sight, fingers dragging on his skin as Cas swallowed uneasily beside him. They bring some of their stuff in, setting it onto the floor while the sun slowly fell behind the tree line. They get a few things from the diner up the road and walk back to the room.

It's around ten now, the crickets humming outside the window as Bambi starts up. Cas tilts his head towards the screen, eyes narrowing and uncertain as the old music starts playing.

"Uhh-" he sets his burger down, "Dean?"

He tilts his head up, mouth full of beef and cheese, "What, Cas?"

"I- I've never seen this before…" He admits.

"Are you joking? Who hasn't seen _Bambi _?"

"Me." Cas deadpans.

Dean snorts, "I got that. Only people who weren't raised right haven't seen_ Bambi _!"

Cas nods, "I guess I wasn't raised to the proper standard…"

"Time to fix that, then."

Castiel nodded and pulled his legs up to his chest. His eyes now focused intently on the screen.

Dean watched Castiel's reaction closely. Cas' eyes would widen in surprise, the corners would crinkle when he smiled, brows touching when upset and eyes brimmed with tears when he was sad. Especially when the death scene started.

"Dean.. why? Why did they kill his mother? She was innocent!" He said, looking at Dean like he had all the answers in the world- or at least to _Bambi_.

"Well, um, the human was hunting and he decided she was going to be his prey." Dean nodded his head once at his explanation. Simple and clean, just like what you would tell a small child when they came to you with thousands of questions about the hard truths of reality.

"A hunter deemed her to be his prey? But she was innocent! Why can someone decide that one thing is prey when they don't deserve to be? Now, her son is abandoned and all alone with nothing while the hunter lives with his killing like it's nothing more than a pile of meat. It-it's not right, Dean." Castiel sniffed. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, applying more force than necessary. As if the more the force given on them means less tears for him to shed.

"Come on, Cas. It's not a big deal- it's Disney for christ's sake!" Dean said, raising his hand to the screen, trying to show Cas how he was overreacting.

"Dean, saying 'it's Disney' doesn't make it okay."

Dean snorted, "It's just a movie, Cas. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"First of all, Dean, I do not wear-" Cas makes air quotes in pure frustration " '_panties _', and second, this movie relates to actual life events in my opinion. Every day a being that's more power-filled deems a creature of less significance their prey. They hunt, kill, and hunt again until their prey is dead or they are pleased that they're scared."

"Is this really about the movie, Cas?"

There's a shaky breath from the floor, and Dean realizes it then. It isn't about the movie anymore- it never was. Bambi may be crying out on screen but it's not what Castiel is truly taking about. It's him- it's about how how he's being hunted by the Morriston ring, how they were trying to kill him even though he was an innocent man. The tears made sense, the shaky quality to his words clicked into place- it all did. Cas was terrified, utterly frozen onto the floor with tears still streaming down his face because he was on the run for his fucking life.

"Cas-" Dean slinks down to the floorboards, knees pressing into them uncomfortably, "Oh Cas- I'm fucking stupid."

He just shakes his head, palms near his eyes while they remain closed, "No- it's nothing."

"What you're feeling isn't 'nothing' Cas- you just can't write it off. Just tell me- please." Dean pleads.

Cas looks up, a few more tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes red and puffy as he sobs out his words, "I just can't do this Dean- I fucked up so much… I shouldn't have flagged those damn accounts- none of this would have happened… It's all my fault."

Dean shakes his head, placing his fingers gently onto Cas' wrists, "It's okay, you didn't know-"

"And it doesn't matter, Dean!" Cas snaps, "I killed them! I killed all of them! Those six people in the bank that died- I fucking knew them Dean! When I close my eyes I can still see their limp corpses and know why they are there! _WHAT MAKES THIS OKAY, DEAN!?_ Tell me! I knew every single fucking one of them- and _I KILLED THEM DEAN _!"

Dean sits on the balls of his heels, "Cas… You didn't kill them, it wasn't your fault."

Cas shakes his head side to side, tears falling and splattering onto the floor, droplets scattering about, "It's all my fault, Dean! They're dead now! Several of them had kids- one of them was about to go to college! They had lives and I fucking ended them!"

"Cas-" Dean's unsure of what to say or do- because what makes sense right now? Castiel is looking at him with tears flowing like a stream, blue irises darting in his gaze and quivering.

He's so broken looking, like he was the one who pulled the trigger or set off the bomb, like it was his fault. Dean felt his stomach lurch at the thought.

"That's not true, Cas. None of it is. I promise you that."

Cas is still shuddering against him, "I- I don't believe y-you…"

Dean pulls him close, rubbing his fingers through his hair and shushing him, "It's alright- it's alright, Cas."

Cas pulls on his shirt, tears soaking through the fabric and dragging on Dean's skin. He feels awful about it- knowing he can't do anything to change what's happened or how Cas is feeling. He wants to, he really does, but he can't. That's what makes it all the more surreal. Dean's used to being the one to save people. Whether it be from an armed robber or a simple thief who was at the end of his ropes, it didn't matter. He's saved Cas before- from the burning building and the gunman- but he hasn't saved Cas from his own demons that are trapped inside and ripping him apart as he sobs against him. Frankly, he's not sure if he can.

Dean pulls them up onto the bed, Cas too busy crying into him to notice anything else- even when the mattress sinks beneath them from their weight. Dean tries to calm Cas, saying gentle words and running a hand soothingly over his back. It's not the first time he's had to do this- especially with some victims who are so utterly lost on scene. Dean does his best to support those who cannot do the same with themselves.

After an hour, Cas seems to quiet himself. He's breathing unevenly into Dean's shirt while his fingers pop with how hard he's gripping his tee. Dean comforts him for just a few more seconds, and then switches into cop mode.

He needs a gun, one that's armed and ready just in case they're discovered- so he grabs the Colt. Cas notices it, puffy eyes widening at it and his mouth opening a little. He's starting to shake while he stares at the engravings on it's side. Dean notices, quickly tucking it into the small of his back.

"Hey- it's okay. I'm just getting it ready just in case…"

"I know it's just… you had it pointed at me once, ready to fire."

Dean remembers it faintly, "Sorry… I promise I'll keep it out of your way as best as I can, then-"

Cas grabs onto his wrist before he can make the gun leave his skin, "No- it's fine, Dean… I shouldn't be doing this when you're trying to protect me… Just do what you have to with it… I'll be fine."

The man finds himself nodding, lowering his arm back into the covers. Cas blinks one more time, eyes drifting close and his breaths growing smaller and even. Dean's a little glad he can keep the Colt- it had been a gift from Sam after they passed the one year mark of being partners. They had gotten a small bonus for some special case they finished together- and as a surprise, Sam bought him the Colt. At first, Dean thought it was a little gaudy. It had engravings in it after all and ivory handles, but as heard about it's Colt title and 1911 year- he's view changed on after he shot it for the first time. It's been with Dean ever since then.

Dean feels a little better when his eyes close a bit.

**…**

"Dean!"

His head shoots up, hand rushing towards the Colt and whipping it from it's makeshift sheathe, "Cas!"

He's nowhere in the bed, the sheets ruffled around him, "Fuck Cas- where are you!?"

There's a bang from the bathroom, Dean jumps off the bed and somehow runs over there in seconds. The door's locked, and Dean can hear Cas in there with whoever broke in. Dean readies himself, shifting his weight and kicking the door in. The sudden light of the open door floods his eyes.

Castiel is being held by some crazed man- going by the scabs and lines on his face, Dean recognizes him as a meth addict, so it equals Morriston- with a knife pressed against the skin of Cas' throat. Dean grits his teeth, fingers tightening on his gun. Cas sort of chokes at the angle his throat his being held at- and Dean can tell from right there it's going to bruise later.

"Let him go." Dean calmly orders, eyes connecting with Castiel's for a moment before going back to the man about to kill him.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" his laugh sounds more like a constricted wheeze, "I'm shocked- go ahead and do it- that won't spare your little fuck buddy from what's comin' to him!"

Cas closes his eyes, biting his lower lip as the blade starts to pull back- but Dean's faster than this druggie. His finger pulls back the trigger in a practiced ease, the shot goes off. Cas cries out as the shot vibrates on the walls and rings in their ears. It's all Dean can hear as he stumbles over to Cas to pick him up.

There's blood everywhere, brain bits spattered all over amongst the crimson dripping downwards. His skull is practically destroyed- considering it's a forty-five caliber gun. Cas looks up to Dean- hands trembling as a few drops of blood trickle down his face. Dean knows Cas is probably hearing nothing but the ringing now, so he quickly hurries up and grabs him. Attempting to use the piercing sound as a slight distraction.

There's not much time, and with the loss of their hearing it makes it dire for the both of them. He practically shoves Cas into the front seat- pulling the car into drive and gunning it out of there. Dean's sure he's speeding, sure that Cas is on the verge of some breakdown from the look on his face as they speed off.

Dean wants to stop, wants to pull over and just let his stomach empty itself- because he just killed a man. Sure, not the best one out of the lot, but still. It doesn't matter if he was a dick, it matters that he's dead with a bullet from Dean's Colt lodged in the remnants of his skull and brain tissue. It's never easy for Dean to take a life, especially when he didn't want to- and that's usually always. Right now there's a cooling body on those bathroom tiles and it's because of him.

"Dean-"

His head whips to the man beside him, there's still blood coating his face and he's staring at Dean- it's a miracle their hearing is back by now, "What Cas?"

"You've been speeding for six hours, I think you can give your lead foot a little rest off the pedal."

Dean almost slams on the breaks at those words, six hours? How could six hours be so fast? Last time Dean checked seconds composed minutes, and those composed the hours- so how in the fuck did so much time pass without him noticing?

"Just pull up over here to this motel," the blood on Cas' face isn't wet anymore, long since dry and cracked, "we can stop and you can rest for a bit- I'm going to drive tomorrow, okay?" Castiel cautiously asks, lightly touching Deans hand with the pads of his fingers.

Dean just nods, because he still isn't himself right now- because all he does when he blinks his eyes closed is see that damn tiled bathroom and the body lying there in blood- his finger pulling of the trigger with his barrell smoking. If this is anything like what Cas is dealing with then he sorry for the man. Its all blood and gun shots. No happy memories if he even tries. No cold sweet tea in the heat of summer on the porch, no smiling faces, all red splatters and broken skulls. It's still too fresh, fresh enough that he vomits on the way to the their hotel room. So fresh that he can't hold himself up and castiel has to be the one to dos so.

Dean's so shaken that Cas has to help him into the shower, waiting outside while Dean really just sits under the shower head. Letting the hot water wash down his neck and back. Hoping it could wash the days events away. When Castiel pulls back the curtain there's still blood running off of Dean into the drain and soaking into his gray boxers.

Cas sighs, stripping himself down to his own black ones- Dean looking towards the brown liquid swirling past him on the bottom of the tub. Cas gets in behind him, gathering some soap onto his hands and lathering Dean's hair gently. The ex-cop closes his eyes to the ginger drag of the man's fingertips on his scalp, soothing circles into his hair with shampoo.

Dean almost makes a whine-like sound when Cas starts washing out the soap instead of rubbing, but he keeps himself quiet- mostly because he sees how much red is leaving his skin as it mixes with the soap forming crimson bubbles and suds.

"I'm going to wash a bit of your skin-" there's a click of a bottle, "but nothing too awkward. Just relax and take deep breaths, I'm here."

Dean leans into Cas' touch, his fingers gently rubbing away all of the dirt and blood from Dean's skin with small, circular motions. Dean rests himself against Cas, the hands on his shoulders soothing him as all the fatigue from the past couple of hours leaves him just like the blood does- the image of the dead man flowing with it into the drain. Dean closes his eyes, the feeling of warm skin against his own while Cas hums somthing, his hands undoing the tension Dean had pent up in his shoulders.

"Just relax, I've got you." Cas says gently, Dean starts to fall asleep, his breathing matching Castiel's in the shower, steam rolling about as the soap slicks down and clears his uneasiness and sink.

Dean nearly falls asleep right there, but Cas stops the water about ten minutes later- the loss of the warm spray causing Dean to jolt. The cold bathroom air pricks his skin, his fine hair sticking up from goosebumps as he slowly awakens.

Cas chuckles, "Nice to see you're up. Come on, let's go to bed."

Dean mumbles something unintelligible as he shuffles out of the tub. Cas just keeps giggling at him, but gives him a towel and leaves the bathroom. Dean supports some of his weight on the bathroom sink, the counter cold against his palms as he looks into the steamed mirror.

There's no sign of blood or bits of that man's brain lodging itself on him, in fact- there's no sign it happened at all. It's like Dean never shot that man dead on those bathroom tiles all those miles back- like he never pulled the trigger before he could slice open Cas' throat. His arms shake a little, but it's easier to handle than before. Because Cas is there, Cas needs him. What kind of protector is he if he can let that happen or mentally buckle under the weight of what he agreed to do?

He shucks off his wet boxers, noticing there's nothing else in the bathroom to wear. Fuck- seems like he's going to have to use his towel so he can go run and get some clothing. He steps out, holding the dampened white fluff to his hip as he exits the bathroom with steam flowing behind him.

"Dean!"

His eyes snap to attention, finding Cas' eyes glaring at him. He's got nothing on but a balled pair of boxers over his- well, you know. Dean coughs awkwardly, sure that his blush is mixing in with the flushed skin from the hot shower as he grabs his bag and hurries away.

Dean pulls a black t-shirt over his skin, the action feeling weird considering the bathroom is still the consistency of a cloud- making the fabric snag and leech onto him uncomfortably. Dean's a little glad that Cas got them a room with two beds, because last night was too close for comfort for him. He's wondering about how in the hell someone was able to snag him away while Dean was right fucking there. He bites his lower lip, noticing the Colt sitting on the counter.

This time, Dean walks out of the bathroom without Cas being practically naked and clothes on himself, settling down on the mattress closest to the door and closing his eyes. They only snap open when he feels it dip on the other side as Cas clambers onto the mattress with him. The ex-cop tilts his head, wondering why in the world Cas is doing something like this, but is only silenced when he sees the food in Castiel's hands.

"I got it while you finished changing. It was just across the street-"

"Don't do anything like that again Cas- I understand if you were trying to help or be nice, but I have to know where you're going or at, okay?"

His eyes falter a little, looking down at the bag of fast food as if it were a mistake, "I understand… I'm sorry Dean, I won't do it again…"

"Hey-" Cas' head snaps up, "don't feel bad, you weren't trying to do anything wrong. I just want to make sure you're okay and I'm there just in case anything went south… Why did you go anyways? I'm sure we could have walked over when I was done."

"I wanted to make up for earlier, you know? I saw how far you'd go for me and I guess… I guess I'm trying to fix that. I got scared for a while you weren't going to bounce back or something, but I'm the most thankful man on the world right now you did. This is sort of… a thank you- a small, unhealthy thank you."

Dean shrugs, "I appreciate it- but I've had to kill people before, Cas. It's part- well, it was part of my job before all this happened. Don't feel like you owe me anything either, because you don't."

Cas smiles, "You're a charming one, aren't you?"

"I try my best."

They start laughing, it ringing throughout the motel room. Its nice. It's as if the morning never happened, that Dean didn't commit murder, or that the whole _Bambi _ fiasco was nothing more than Disney heartbreak. It's peaceful, quaint, as if the reason they were there was a road-trip and not running from the Morriston ring who was looming over them every second of the day and night. Soon after they finished the food- which Dean labeled as the best heart-attack-in-waiting ever on a bun- the fatigue settles in their bones as they slowly drift away into sleep.

There's two beds- but only one winds up being used.


	3. Chapter 3

****Author's Note: _**

**There is a lot of SEXUAL THINGS in this ch., you'll understand once you read it. (;**

**ENJOY!~**

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sammy."

Dean hears Sam spit out his coffee, or whatever he was drinking, "What!?"

Sam's breathing is heavy over the phone, "It's me Sam- you know- your old partner, Dean Winchester?"

"I know who you are Dean!" Sam grunts, "Why are you calling me- don't you think that's dangerous or somethin'?"

"It's a payphone so shut your pie hole. I need some details on whatever happened at the bank and any leads you've gotten."

There's some shuffling of papers on the other line, "Dean, we've barely even gotten anything from the rubble… We believe it was a homemade bomb though, and there's only one person we're unsure of who might be related."

Dean nods, "Tell me the name."

"Dean-"

"Sammy, tell me. I need to wipe out anyone who may be hunting Cas- we had a close call just the other day."

Sam quiets himself a little, "So that body- in the motel somewhere in Emporia- that was you?"

There's a sigh from Dean before he replies, "I told you, we had a close call. He had a knife at Cas' throat and I just reacted."

"Where did Cas come from?" Sam chuckles, "Making nicknames for you and your little friend."

"Shut up bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean laughs, a little glad that he and Sam joked around a little, "Look, he and I are gonna go figure out what's going on behind all this."

"I suppose," Sam sighs, "Thomas Deller is his name, last we know about him he was at some place near Chickasha in Oklahoma. We're running traces on him right now… Anyways, how's the run going for you two so far?"

Dean snorts, "Interestingly- to say at the least."

There's a laugh on the other line, "That's good… You two try to be safe, okay? If you need anything else Dean- just call. It'll be best if you use my cellphone all the time."

"Will do, Sammy. I'll call if something else pops up or when we figure out who this Thomas Deller is."

"I'll be waiting. Tell him I said hi."

Dean hangs up the phone, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. They were in some part of Oklahoma City- so they were not too far from wherever Thomas Deller was hiding. Cas was sitting in the driver seat of the car, head resting on the cushion while he waits for Dean.

"How was the call with Sam?"

Dean clicks the buckle into place, "He says hi, before I get to business… I got a lead on someone who was connected with the explosion in the bank."

"Where to, then?"

Dean stops, tilting his head and looking over to Castiel, "That's it? No fuss or somethin'?"

"No…" Cas smiles slightly, "I understand what we're doing Dean. Did you think I was going to go against it?"

"In all honesty, yeah I was."

Cas puts the car in drive, "If it makes you feel better I'm all about getting guy too- so that means I'm on board. Funny, you're still kind of a cop right now."

Dean snorts, "Yeah- except I'm without my uniform and- holy shit."

"Something wrong Dean?"

"I can't fucking believe it-" Dean laughs as Cas pulls out of the motel parking lot, "my uniform is in the back with Sam's."

Cas quirks a brow, "So we're going undercover?"

Dean smiles as Cas punches the gas, "Fuck yeah we are."

**…**

Dean fixes the tie on Sam's suit- taking the liberty to wear it instead of his since he's closer to the fit than Cas is. The ex-cop steps out, adjusting his shirt one last time before they head into Chickasha. After Dean told him where they were headed, Cas said he remembered there were a lot of expenses at a bar there- and it became their destination.

They end up outside a glossy black building. The windows tinted a dark plum, with heavy black doors guarding the entrance, where a large man in a heavy blue coat stands.

They calmly walk up to the entrance, Dean slipping into his cop mode slightly as they approach the security guard. He's about an inch or so taller than Dean, but has eyes so brown they look pitch black as he sizes them up- looking at their officer uniforms with a quirked brow and a slight smile.

"Go on in, guys. They get more kinky each day..." The man mumbles, opening the door to the club.

Dean looks at the man through the side of his eye, kinky? What was he even talking about? Then it hit him. They were in a fucking strip club.

"Cas-" Dean looks around, seeing him keep walking forward, "We've got to go, now."

He went for Cas' arm, only reaching it as a voice rang through the air, "Thank GOD you're here!" a husky male voice said.

Dean looked to the direction of the voice. Before him stood a slightly shorter man in a fancy looking three piece suit and large over coat. Don't people get tired of the stupid pimp stereotype?

"Here?" Dean asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"Yes! We have a man looking for our 'Hunky Coppers'; he's in a private room, willing to pay what ever for you to give him a little show."

Dean's mouth dropped. They weren't fucking strippers! They were two men on the run from a prominent drug ring- not strippers. Thank you very much.

Castiel blurts something, taking Dean out of his internal monologue, "We'll do it."

Dean whips his head towards him, "Cas-"

"Better hurry, he's been waiting for a while."

Cas grabs Dean's hand, only looking towards him when they're outside the door, "Don't worry, it'll be simple. We'll just fake most of it, okay? We're nothing more than special cops."

Dean grunts, looking away, "Alright, fine. You fucking owe me though- shit's uncomfortable."

Cas pulls back the door, the air catching in their throats. There's a man smirking on a couch, the bright red fabric popping out against the black flooring and walls, a pole nearby on a stage. Dean swallows nervously- he's only been on the receiving end of this, once when he was twenty and they were celebrating his first day at the station.

"Good to see you boys made it." he smirks, "I was thinking you'd never show."

Cas gives Dean a quick look, "We responded as soon as we got the call, sir."

"You can see I'm in a bit of a helpless state-" he winks towards the both of them, "I need an assistant."

Dean almost clears his throat awkwardly, because it feels like a sick joke he's walking into. He watches as Cas nods his head, seeming to fall into place with this easily as if they weren't about to do- … this, with a stranger.

"You, green eyes- pole. Baby blues can give me a lap dance while you spin."

Dean watches as Cas struts over, he grits his teeth- but decides this is too big to pass up because he's getting nervous. He walks over to the pole, unsure of what he's supposed to be doing really as some music starts up. Dean grabs onto the cool metal, knowing this is full and well that this is something Sam's suit was never stitched together for. He swallows, shucking off his shoes and socks onto the stage. He manages a quick glance at Thomas, Cas straddling his hips and a dark smirk played on his lips as he unwinds the knot in Dean's tie, shucking it to the floor with ease- and it makes Dean's throat and mouth go dry.

Dean tries to ignore it going on beside him, because suddenly there's another man walking in. He's got muscles that strain his shirt, thick black eyebrows raising at Dean as he sees him at the pole.

"Don't mind him, he's a friend. You can dance for him, Freckles, I'll be busy with Baby Blues here." The man said, placing his hands on Castiel's hips.

Dean almost growls at the fingers wrapping onto Cas, but he's zapped back into reality as the man comes forth and is staring at him.

"Take of your shirt-" he stops Dean before he can throw it off, "slowly."

Dean swallows, but does as he says. He slowly pops out each button, eyes flicking to him as his fingers make the plastic pieces slide from the cloth slots. The man's breath is quickening, eyes intent on Dean's nimble work of Sam's shirt. He bites his lower lip as he thinks of something to do with the last one.

Dean pulls it up to his mouth, connecting his eyes with the man's and managing a few glances at Cas before starting. The lap dance stops nearby to watch, Dean's tongue slowly working the button out of the shirt, the fabric falling away and Dean's toned stomach cooling as the air hits it.

"Fuck… he's talented." the man before Dean smirks sinisterly, "I might be using that later."

Dean swallows, glancing over to Cas who's staring intently from nearby. His eyes are watching as Dean starts to move to the beat on the pole. He slides down, rocking his hips to the beat as it plays around him. For some weird reason Dean's never expected- he's enjoying this. The music is blaring through the speakers, making Dean sync his movements with the sultry sounds as he slowly rocks himself against the cold silver pole- moving his hips in small circular movements. His eyes meet Cas' a few times, blue barely visible from the pupil.

"Shit- Freckles knows what he's doing." Thomas says, watching as Dean uses an arm to spin around the pole with ease.

Cas is watching just like the rest of them, mouth a bit agape as Dean actually pulls himself up onto the heating metal. Dean keeps looking at him, eyes connecting as he goes around, skin pulling on the pole as the song plays around them.

"Freckles- it's your turn for the lap routine, Baby Blues here will give Benny his dance."

Cas glares at Thomas for a moment, brows furrowed, but he gets up anyways. Benny comes over and sits down next to Thomas, eyes eager to see what the pair has to offer him. Dean slots his pelvis over Thomas', taking a small breath and looking over to Cas one more time. It's a quick glance that holds, Dean's small amount of fear pouring through and Cas' reassurance sent back to him. Dean looks away first, settling himself with what he's about to do.

Thomas gasps when Dean first rolls his hips, fingers tightening on Dean's wrist as the ex-cop grinds him. He's a little unsure as to what he's supposed to be doing, but he goes with it. Benny is not too far behind, head thrown back as Cas works himself against him in sync with Dean. The two keep sending glances at each other, growing more and more fiery as they roll their hips exactly like the other.

"Look at how they keep glancing at each other..." Thomas smirked.

"How about you two put on a little show?"

Dean looks over to Cas, heart pounding in his chest as the words settle in him. Show? With Cas? Dean bites his lower lip as Castiel gets off of Benny and stalks over to him. He grips Dean's wrist, guiding him to the stage, looking at him the whole time.

"Don't worry, I'll do all the work. You just follow my lead and look pretty." Castiel whispers into his ear. The hot breath he gives Dean leaves a sheen of steam onto the pole as he pulls back his head slowly.

Dean nods, swallowing his uneasiness and gripping onto the pole. Another song starts up, and he and Cas seem to fall into it's tempo almost naturally. Cas' movements are simple and easy to follow, Dean finding himself moving with him perfectly. Their eyes connect several times while they dance on the pole. Dean gets closer and closer to him, the swinging bringing their skin together and their breaths on their necks. Dean's hands fumble on the pole though, Cas following suit.

They end up slipping off, both landing in relative distance to each other. Dean was stunned; he didn't picture falling off the pole a part of his night- or any of this. He looks over to Cas, the sight he finds pleasing to his groin. Cas is full on 'I'm your predator, you're my prey' as he crawls over, swaying his hips to the music while keeping his eyes on Dean the whole time. He looms over, raising a leg to straddle Dean's waist, both hands on either side of Dean's head. Dean moved his hand up to grasp at Castiel's waist.

"Hands on the floor,_ officer _." Cas smirks. His voice is a few octaves lower, thick with lust. Dean quickly removes his hands and places them to his sides. Cas smiled in affirmation to the act. He raises to his knees, making him look much larger than Dean. Dean looks to the two men, both look like their about to bust with the sight before. Cas follows Dean's eyes and smirks. What the fuck did Dean get himself into? With quick movements Castiel has Dean's hands pinned above his head. He slowly starts to grind his lower body against Dean's. Cas whips his head back in a circular motion, licking his lips then dragging his teeth over his bottom one.

Dean bucks his hips against Cas, zings of pleasure flow through his body. They follow each others movement; Cas setting the pace. Dean tries to get more friction. Cas lifts his hand up to Dean's jaw, positioning it to where Dean's looking up to the wall. He cries out as he feels the hot wet drag of Cas' tongue against his skin.

Dean can't believe this is actually happening to him, that Cas is taking his tongue and sweeping it across his skin- that he's_ fucking enjoying it _. Dean makes a low sound, legs shuffling a little as the coil tightens in his abdomen.

"They really like each other, don't they?" Thomas snickers, "Look how good Freckles is responding."

"You bet your fine ass they are, Baby Blues isn't too innocent after all."

Dean raises his hips up, trying to keen his mouth upwards to Cas when he stops him, "Not yet."

Dean's head falls back onto the stage, eyes half-lidded as Cas keeps going on above him. Their hips keep meeting in a rough motion, every inch of friction Dean gets sending a shudder down his spine as he cries out from it. They are getting really into it, Dean's hand reaching down to their flies when a phone rings in Thomas' pocket.

Cas stills, the reality of what they're doing settling on them as Cas throws himself off of Dean and grabs their shirts and stuff- his skin becoming a strong shade of red. Dean looks away, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and quell his breathing. Nothing's working.

"What!?" Thomas snaps over the phone, "He's dead!? How the fuck can he be dead!?"

Dean looks at Cas, forgetting the awkwardness and going into protection mode instantly. They start buttoning their clothes, moving their fingers quickly while listening to the conversation at hand.

"How the fuck did he not execute the job? It was simple. Get in, grab him, slice his fucking throat in two. You're tell me he couldn't even manage that? Alright- it doesn't matter. Just get someone else to do it. All that really counts is that in the end that fucker's lying in a pool of his own blood, or locked up somewhere for us to do what we'd want with him. Yeah, send him. That'll work." Dean looked over to Cas, noticing his breathing speeding up. Not from what they just did, but from what they just heard.

Dean grabbed Cas' hand, dragging him out of the room. As soon as they were out of the door- he bolted, dragging Castiel with him. Cas was tripping the whole way out the entrance, his legs seemingly not working. Once they were down the road from the strip club Dean stopped, letting Cas' wrist go.

"Cas, look at me." Castiel's eyes darted from Deans face, to the floor, to the areas around them, and then blinked. It was like his eyes were on repeat.

Dean grunts, grabbing onto Cas' wrist again and practically shoving him into the car. He speeds off for a little, engine roaring as he slips in and out of traffic hoping to god they weren't figured out or followed. He only settles a little when they're a hundred miles out of Chickasha and it seems they are on they're own again.

"Cas-" Dean stomps on the gas, his shirt still sloppy on him, a few buttons undone and in the wrong places, "Cas, please."

He doesn't look at Dean still, fingers clambering onto his seatbelt as Dean speeds down the highway once again. Dean wants to tell him that they're going to be fine, that all that back there in the club was nothing more than undercover work so they could find out more from Thomas- but they blew it. The man grips the wheel more as the road flies underneath the tires.

Cas doesn't really say anything else, just looks out the window instead and keeps it that way. Dean can't help but shoot worried glances at him- wondering what the hell he's thinking about. Dean turns the radio down, deciding that it would be best to just try and see what was wrong with Cas.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, please?"

Cas doesn't respond at Dean's words, staring out the window and not paying attention to the world much- just watching it slide past. His eyes look glossy and glazed over. The fact emerged that not only did Cas think he killed many people, but that he also knew he was on the run from being killed. Dean grunts, clearing his throat.

"Alright- I get it, Cas. I understand that this is a lot to process. That leaving was so abrupt and unexpected- I'm feelin' it too. I know you're probably missing you old life by now- and that thing we did back there in the strip club- well, I don't think there's many words for that other than awkward. I wish it was different Cas, I really do- but that doesn't change the fact you're over here sulking by the window. You gotta stop letting it get to your head like that. I'm here, doing the same thing as you are- and I'm talkin' about it. Sorry if that hurts your feelings or something, but it's true, Cas. I'm just worrying if you're okay-"

"You talk too much."

Dean pauses a moment at Cas' words and tone, just a tad harsh and cold, but Dean just snorts as he replies, "Yeah well, you don't talk enough."

Castiel doesn't say anything else, only sliding himself a little further from Dean and ignoring the exasperated sigh escaping him. The ex-cop just stares at the road again, a little upset with himself for being too hard and a little at Cas for shutting him out- and maybe at the world for the mess that they're in. If there's one thing he's sure of, it's that arguing about it isn't going to change it, isn't going to stop the Morristons from pursuing Cas, or fix their unstable relationship. He just sets his attention onto the road and away from the man beside him who's still looking the other direction.

**…**

Dean pulls up to a small restaurant, eyes staring in the rearview mirror to confirm his suspicion. As he sees the black car rolls up, it's engine purring as it parks- Dean understands what's going on now. He hits Cas in the shoulder, who's still brooding over the small fight earlier.

"Hey- we're being followed. Two men, black Chevy behind us, the muscle car. Act natural, we're going to just eat and then figure out what we're going to do."

Cas seems to take Dean's words in, dismissing his initial negativity towards Dean and steeling himself. They step out of the rental car and into the small diner-like building, fifties music assaulting them as soon as they cross the threshold. They pick the booth in the corner, Cas one side and Dean on the other, both able to watch the portion of the restaurant the other can't. Cas makes a small hand movement that tells Dean the two men pursuing them have entered, the Colt feeling heavy on his back as the bell above the door rings with their entry. Cas picks up his menu, eyes barely skimming it's top as he looks towards Dean before pretending to be oblivious.

"What can I get you two lovebirds?"

Dean's attention snaps towards their server, a young blonde who's about nineteen, red lips parted in a smile as she readies her pad with an all too enthusiastic approach, "I'll have a cheeseburger with fries and a small apple pie, coke to drink."

Cas sets his menu down, "I'll have the same, and no salt on my fries."

She nods, finishing her scribbles, "Alrighty- I'll put that right in! Should be only ten minutes!"

"She's too peachy for her job here." Dean grunts, trying to look relaxed by sliding down a little in his chair.

"I agree…" Cas glances behind Dean for a moment, the ex-cop guessing they took a booth somewhere behind him, "Why did you get an apple pie though?"

Dean snorts, or tries to even though he's all too busy thinking about the gun in his jean's waist, "I love apple pie- it's amazing and no one can tell me otherwise."

There's a pause in the conversation as the waiter gives them their drinks, "I didn't say it was bad… Are we going to even discuss the fact she called us 'lovebirds'?"

"There's no point really…"

Cas furrows his brow, "No point? But we're not together, Dean- last time I checked we just sit in a car together and sleep in motels."

"Because Cas-" the images from the strip club still to evident in Dean's mind, with the fact that there's two mobster people trying to kill them only a few feet away, "it's just too much hassle. We can keep the truth our little secret, eh? Make everyone think we're two men in the throes of love while we just roam the country- like a personal joke or something between us. Lord knows we need one…"

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind." Cas mumbles, the food being set out in front of them.

Dean forces himself to eat for several reasons. One, being he needs food even if he doesn't feel into it. Second, that there are two people watching him closely with weapons at the ready- so he knows that he's got to look as normal as possible. The last of course, is that it looks fucking delicious and Dean can't help himself. As he chews, he finds Cas watching him, nibbling on a fry with a quirked brow. Dean just shrugs it off, mixing the fizzy coke with his burger and moaning a little at the taste. Cas stiffens in his seat a little at the noise, and Dean just writes it off as nerves- considering they could be easily killed right now, even though Dean's moaning into his food like a professional pornstar. It's only worse so we he eats his pie.

"Alright, that was good-" Dean pats his stomach a little, "let's go."

Dean leaves some money on the table, fixing his jacket as reality comes back to him. He makes a simple nod to Cas- one that means to follow his lead, and they set out to the door. They walk out, pretending to be talking about something, when really it's nothing at all- making a quick turn into the alley way to meet up with whoever was tailing them.

They wait for what seems like minutes. Cas is growing uneasy, leaning against the bricks with his hands in his pockets, staring at the edge of the wall and fidgeting.

"Cas, calm down- it's okay."

He shakes his head, "Yeah, knowing I'm about to be jumped is something I can just write off like it's nothing."

Dean is about to say something else when his ears prick to a door inside the alley way, "Shit! Cas- just roll with this okay?"

"Dean I don't-"

He can't say anything else because Dean quickly slams his mouth into his while pushing him into the wall, the door opening to them kissing. Cas quickly catches on, hooking his fingers into the first loop of Dean's jeans and moving his hips a little. Dean feels the drag of Cas' lips on his, the uneasy slide of their denim meeting at the hip and thigh as Cas slots a leg forward. Dean slides a hand to the back of his neck and clutching onto some hair at the back of Castiel's skull as there's a dramatic sigh to their left.

"Hey!" a man yells, "Get out of here- there's a thing called motel rooms and you two need one!"

Dean pretends he's startled by him, Cas just standing there as their lips separate. The man just glares at them, trash bag in hand as he waits for Dean and Cas to leave.

"I swear… Those two men trying to leave without paying and now this bullshit- I am so done." his voice reaching Dean as they walk away from the alley.

Dean gets inside the rental car and turns the key in the ignition, seeing the two men from inside bolt from the door. If he plans he right, he can do something he's been needing to- get a new car other than this rental. Cas doesn't say anything, just sits in the passenger seat watching the men run behind them as Dean leaves the parking lot. He keeps quiet while Dean drives, doesn't say anything when Dean pulls into a small secluded parking lot from a torn down building.

There's a line of trees blocking people's view from the highway, the sound of cars speeding past, buffered by the foliage as Dean steps out and leans on the body of the car, waiting. The sound hits his ears before the sight of the black body does, and Dean decides then it's the perfect car and that he's going to get it from them no matter what. Besides, the rental was traceable while he was sure the Chevy wasn't.

The car stops, engine dying and the two men opening their doors, eyes stern and set on Dean Winchester who looks like he doesn't give a flying fuck- which he doesn't. A shine glints off their guns as they step forward, faces stern as they approach him while Cas stays in the car.

"What can I help you with gentleman?" Dean smirks, one hand inching towards the Colt.

"You know why we're here- to get that bastard sitting in the front seat of your car and gut him like a fish." he is already pulling his gun out, "Now- I'd like to get to business rather than answering your questions."

Dean follows his hand, the movements all slowing down as he moves towards the gun in the small of his back, "Don't mind if I do."

The first bullet that leaves the gun is from one of the pursuers, barely missing Dean's head as it whizzes past and causing Dean to nearly fumble. He pulls his finger back, Colt sending it's payload towards one of them and connecting with his chest. The man clutches at the new formed hole, blood dripping downwards and out of the corner of his mouth, eyes meeting Dean's before he falls to the ground with a solid and final thud.

Dean's about to shoot again, but those seconds of watching the man he just shot die have cost him. He feels the bullet rip through the leather of his jacket and the fabric of his shirt, grinding away flesh on his left arm as it flies past. It's a graze- but a deep one that has he falling to the ground and against the side of the car in moments. He's winded, staring at the blood that's trickling onto the gravel and knowing that it's from himself.

"I got you now you little fuck-"

That's all he manages to say, because there's a knife going into his stomach, hilt to the flesh and twisting. Cas is there, face hard and cold as he adds more force. The man cries out, eyes flashing closed as the pain racks through him. Dean can't believe what he's seeing, or hearing- that it's all the adrenaline and wound's fault for creating this. Because this can't be Cas- it just can't be.

Cas removes the knife, a slick sound splitting into the air as it leaves the man's abdomen. It's dripping blood, in fact- is doused in it alongside Castiel's hand, soaking a little of his shirt near the waist as he relaxes his arm. He looks over to Dean, who's still fidgeting against the cool metal of the rental car. His fingers are wrapped loosely against his arm, blood coating his fingers as he grits his teeth and meets Cas' gaze. It's confusing, because it doesn't seem like Cas at all. There's something dark to his eyes now, something lingering- like a heavy cloud bellowing before it pours- and it's starting to overcast that sunny blue Dean's grown accustomed to. He swallows, breaths still uneven and raspy as Cas makes his way over.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean can't say anything, it's like he's mute.

"Dean- are you okay!?" Cas snaps, voice rigid and unlike anything Dean thought his vocal cords were capable of producing.

He nods, mouth gone dry and heart almost stilled- he lifts his hand from his arm to seem them completely red, a drop of blood trickling down his palm to his wrist as he stares. Cas lifts him up, arm looping underneath his only good one as Dean stumbles. The world is sort of spinning, wavering underneath his feet as the gravel crunches and the air nips at his bloodied bicep. Cas sets him in the front seat of the car, finding a towel somewhere and giving it to him. Dean supposes he's in shock or something, because he's fingers and palms are shaking while he presses the fabric as hard as he can on his wound- throwing his head back as the pain pulses through it with his heartbeats. He doesn't know how long it's been- only aware that Cas was moving things back and forth between the cars and now they're on the road again. There's a blanket wrapped around Dean- and he's grateful. He feels cold and clammy, his arm gone numb at least a few minutes ago.

He nearly vomits from inertia when Cas lifts him out of the car, head pounding while he leans most of his weight onto Cas. He must have lost a lot of blood, or it's been a while since he got shot because the sun is gone and there somewhere Dean doesn't recognize. When Cas sets him on the mattress, he lets his eyes fall closed- because this is the most painful thing he's ever experienced. It's like his skin is hissing at him- at anything because it's searing and causing Dean's blood to boil. He bites his lower lip, hard enough to bleed apparently as he tastes a salty tang of rust on his tongue.

"Stop that…" Cas says softly, the bed dipping beside Dean as he hears something plastic clip open, "You lost enough blood already, no need to lose anymore."

Dean wants to say something, something along the lines of 'shut the fuck up, Cas'- but he can't find his tongue able to move. He's so tired, so worn- like he just wants to sleep forever and never wake up. He opens his eyes with that.

He can't leave Cas- especially now. Not when he needs him and here he is about to give up on a mattress. Dean looks towards him, seeing those blue eyes fixed intently upon his forearm. The cloud is gone, something Dean is grateful for, because when those irises move up and meet his they're light and airy- something so… Cas.

"I'm just fixing it up, okay? I'm going to have to put some butterfly stitches on them- but it'll just help with the healing process. It should be fine after a few days- … hopefully."

Dean softens his gaze a little, eyebrows falling a slight fraction. Cas holds his eyes for a few more moments, something in them unraveling as he slowly brings them back to the wound plaguing Dean's arm. The movements he makes are gentle, wiping away the clotted blood and cleaning the broken skin. Dean would almost consider Cas a doctor, or a natural- but he's too out of it to be saying anything.

"Here- I found this in the trunk of the Impala, it's a bottle of pain pills. I'm just going to give you half of one because I'm unsure if it's completely safe- but it was still sealed and unopened in the trunk. I'll get you some water."

Dean takes the pill greedily, the chalky sensation and tart taste playing onto his tongue as he swallows it. His eyes droop, feeling the exhaustion of all that happened bore down onto him and sink into his bones. He only stays awake long enough to feel Cas press a glass to his lips- water flowing down his throat the most relieving thing ever- and for him to slide into the bed next to him and pull the covers up.

He falls asleep instantly.


	4. Chapter 4

****Author's Note: _**

**There be sexual content and other adult themes within this ch. Some may be considered triggers.**

**So... ****READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**

**ENJOY!~**

* * *

Dean nearly jolts up, the pain of his arm waking up him up so abruptly as his breathing comes out rigid. He looks over, Castiel not in the bed and the mattress gone cold.

"Cas!"

Dean throws himself out of the bed, arm and heart pounding as he stumbles around. Did someone get Cas? Did Dean fail on his promise yet again? Is he somewhere getting sliced open or worse while Dean is flailing about being useless? The questions and fear assault Dean, his mental voice screaming nothing but: Cas Cas Cas.

"Dean? …"

Before he thinks about what he's doing, before he even has a chance to process that Cas is here- Dean's arms are wrapping around him and pulling him close. He was terrified, he was worried- and now Cas is here and the fear in his stomach is starting to settle a bit as it sinks in that Cas is here- that he's okay.

"D-Dean? …"

He only tightens his grip as he speaks, "I woke up and you were gone and I- I thought something had happened Cas- _oh fuck _…"

Dean feels the uncertainty he had pricking his voice, making it shallow and crack like a flimsy branch would when it's rotten and the wind shakes it. He hopes he doesn't sound too off hinge, or that Cas is put off by how grateful Dean is to have him back- but a small portion of him doesn't care. He lets go a few moments after, sighing and letting his arms fall to his sides. Cas is looking at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"What was that?" he asks, looking away for a moment and then rubbing his neck.

Dean blinks, "I thought something had happened and well… I dunno… I feel loopy."

"You should." Cas walks over to the bed, fixing something while he keeps talking to Dean, "You lost a lot of blood and I gave you a pain pill- of course you're going to feel off right now."

Dean sits himself on the mattress, rubbing his forehead a little, "Cas- about all that happened yesterday, I just want to let you know that… I hope it doesn't change anything between us or something…"

Cas just keeps his back to him, fidgeting with something on the bedside table, "It's fine, Dean. You don't have to worry about it because it's all fine."

"I just wanted to make sure… Thanks for all the medical stuff, and for saving me- I really owe you."

"Don't feel like you owe me anything, because you don't."

Dean smiles slightly as he rubs the back of his neck, swallowing and looking towards the reddened bandage on his arm. This is a lot to take in- the whole club thing from yesterday and all of that, let alone everything else. Dean just licks the scab on his lower lip and starts to think. He needs a drink, and a break. The idea hits him and Dean realizes what they can do.

"Hey Cas-" Dean smiles, "know any bars that are around here?"

Cas looks up, "There was one on the way in, just down the road- why?"

"I think it's high time we need a drink."

Cas nods, "Alright. Let's go."

The bar isn't much when Dean walks in, the walls covered in sport tokens and pictures. He never really cared much for them, just shrugs it off as he and Castiel take two stools at the counter. Dean gives a content sigh as he settles himself in the chair, the wooden smell of the bar going into his nose and making him smile. Cas seems a little intrigued by the place, focusing on how the liquids are lined and lit up behind the bar. The way the glass bottles and the murky brown liquid reflect off each other especially taking his interests. Dean orders them two beers, excited to feel the alcohol run down his throat and settle in his stomach. After the few days he's had he needs a fucking drink. God bless.

"So…" Dean holds the neck of his bottle, "Feelin' better today?"

Cas nods, taking a swig, "A little bit. Nerves are just getting to me."

"How so?"

Cas sighs, setting the bottle down onto the polished wood, "I dunno- I guess being on the run has just gotten me amped up or something- and I don't know how to unwind. It's weird- a little hard to describe- but you understand right? …"

"I think I do…" Dean nods and drinks some more, "My job had me the same way. Just a lot of nights spent watching car after car, person after person get fucked up beyond belief- and I guess the harder side of reality just never left me. It's always been a part of me, I suppose."

The man beside him is looking at him, eyes softened as Dean takes another mouthful of beer, "My start wasn't too easy either. I sort of grew up around violence and all of that… It's like a part that never leaves you or something… That sounds cheesy as fuck, though."

Dean laughs, and Cas joins in with him. He really needed this drink, it's making him feel all bubbly inside. He finishes it off, head light and happy as he just floats right there in his seat. Cas seems to be the same way too- a smile stretching his face as he just keeps giggling to himself. The people around Dean, especially Cas, seem to be laughing all in unison.

"I have an announcement!" the bartender stands up on a stool, "I have put roofies in all of your drinks because I am getting fired tomorrow- so I thought- fuck it! Why not!? Have fun motherfuckers!"

Dean looks over to Cas, trying to pull one brow up and keep it there, but it just seems to keep falling back and Cas can't stop laughing at him. Dean hiccups, looking at the bartender and ordering himself and Cas another drink because just like the bartender said- fuck it. He and Cas clink their shot glasses together, laughing and smiling, downing them in one go. It burns Dean's throat as he laughs, Cas sputtering beside him like a busted water fountain.

"You okay?" Dean snorts, "You seem like you swallowed wrong."

Cas clears his throat, "I did, but it's okay.. I'm okay. We should go back to the motel room- this place is too loud for me."

Dean laughs, he doesn't know why- just that he feels so pent up inside he's got to show the world his happiness somehow. He and Cas loop their arms together, about to walk out the door when someone else who's there and fucked up on alcohol and roofies stops them.

"Hey!" he slurs, "Are you two a couple?!"

"No!" Dean laughs while he continues, "Why- did you think we were?"

The man nods, "You two just look so- together… I dunno. Hey, I bet you won't kiss him."

Dean feels a bit of challenge rise up in him, "Oh yea? How much you wanna bet on it?"

"Fifty dollars-"

"I'll take it!"

Cas is about to say something himself, but he can't anymore because Dean's pushing him into the wall, hands sloppily to the sides of his face. Cas fumbles for a moment, mouth stiff against Dean's as the man runs his tongue across his bottom lip. It falls lax, just like Cas' body as he slumps a little against the wall, mouth opening and pressing into Dean's.

"Fuck- I'll give you guys a hundred!"

Dean feels the money get placed in his back pocket, but doesn't react. He's too busy sliding his tongue into Cas' mouth, licking and tasting what is just… Cas. A groan escapes him and hits into the air of the bar. They stumble out the door, their faces barely leaving the other's. Dean's hands go up Castiel's shirt, pushes against Castiel's abs, making him press against the side of the bar.

"Dean-" Cas moans out, head falling back against the rough brick exposing his neck like a special present to Dean, "_Dean! _"

Dean runs a tongue up Cas' neck, the sound he receives low and rough. He rocks his hips against Cas', denim grinding as he juts forward. Cas grabs onto him, pulling him away from the wall and making them fall onto the ground in a horny heap. This time, Cas is above him, growling into his ear. Dean has to throw his head back, Cas' name on the verge of his lips as a spark goes down his spine.

"Hey! You can't do that out here!"

Cas' head snaps up towards the voice, glaring at it's sender. Dean's in too much of a haze for anything to register other than Cas' fingertips against his wrist. Suddenly they're in the motel room, right back to where they started. Castiel is eager, hands going down to Dean's fly and pulling it down. Castiel takes Dean's dick into his hand, he squeezes a few times to test the waters- then full out jerks him off. Dean's back his pressed into a dresser, the knobs shaking as he rocks against Cas' palm- head thrown back in ecstasy and mouth agape. Cas presses kisses all around Dean's neck, lingering on the more sensitive parts and sucking. Dean jolts forward, a cry on his lips as he shudders against him. Cas seems pleased, Dean still writhing against his hand slightly as he rides it out.

"You look so gorgeous…" Cas whispers, fingers dragging softly on his skin, mouth pursed.

Dean sags a little against the wood, body thrumming and skin heated. His breath isn't even, instead it's uneven and rushed. Cas slides his hand out of Dean's jeans, smiling at the small whine that comes from the man at the loss of contact.

"My turn."

Dean pushes Cas back onto the mattress, Cas hitting it with a small thud. Dean smirks, eyes half-lidded as he walks over, getting on his knees in front of Cas and smiling. The man watches intently as Dean begins, grabbing the metal of his zipper and pulling down, a deep groan vibrating from his chest as Dean laughs. He finishes with a flick of his tongue, looking up to Cas- seeing those blue eyes dark just like they were at the strip club.

Dean feels Cas run his fingers through his hair, clenching onto the strands as Dean takes his tongue and runs it upwards. Cas rocks his hips forward, Dean relaxing as he swirls his tongue around the tip- a moan coming from Cas each time he flicks his tongue just a little over the head. Dean pushes his tongue into the small slit, coaxing precum out, making Cas keen and groan even more. It only gets more intimate when Dean meets Cas' eyes again, head bobbing up and down as he works him with his mouth. Cas stares, mouth parted and tongue running across his bottom lip as he watches Dean taste him.

Dean swallows, the salty tang going easily down his throat. Cas is sprawled out onto the mattress, chest rising and falling intently as Dean gets off of the floor. He isn't done quite yet, and with how fast Cas looks up to him- he isn't either. Dean gets on top of him, hips straight over Castiel's as he begins. It starts with a simple roll, Cas gasping and bringing his up to Dean's. What Dean doesn't expect is for Cas to shuck off his shirt and flip him onto the mattress.

"You already had your fun, Dean." Cas whispers seductively into Dean's ear, nipping his earlobe and laughing darkly, "It's my turn now."

Dean can't help the electric trickle that slinks up his spine, only intensifying as Cas slowly pulls off his jeans and boxers. Dean throws his head back, presenting his throat to Cas, a moan choking out, voice hitting the air broken and needy- Cas is quick to supply the touches and friction he's practically begging for.

"Be gentle…" Dean manages, "This is my first time."

"You're a virgin?" Cas quirks, "Funny- I am too."

Dean shrugs, "This way I am. Consider yourself lucky."

Cas smiles, "I do Dean- I do."

Dean wants to say something else, is he supposed to? Either way it doesn't matter because Cas just pushes in. Dean cries out, back arching off the mattress, neck stretched and strained. Cas smiles, pressing his lips all around Dean's skin that's open to him- and that's a lot. Dean can't help but writhe around, not used to the strong pulsing he's getting from this- the pleasure he's getting a whole new level he's never experienced before. He grasps the sheets in one hand, mouth agape as Cas thrusts forward, other hand tangled in his bedridden hair sloppily. His nerves are alight, tingling at anything that reacts with them.

Dean's sure his voice is growing hoarse with how much noise he's been making, Cas above him still going as he holds him close. Dean feels like he's about lose it right there- fall off the edge and into whatever feels like it's about to explode into him- when Cas presses his lips to Dean's. It's not rough like it has been so far, or rushed, simple and easy- gentle and sweet. It's what sets Dean off, the flesh pulling on his as they ride it out together. Dean is moaning out, Cas muffling some of them as he presses his lips against his, Cas' tongue sometimes reaching and dipping into Dean's open mouth. Dean feels his body shudder, Cas gently guiding him through the throes of the orgasm.

Dean settles against the mattress, Cas still above him and smiling softly. Dean lets out a pleasure influenced sigh, feeling Cas' fingers rub his face gently. Dean leans into the touch, a small smile played on his face as he closes his eyes. He doesn't realize he's been slightly rocking against Cas until he removes himself, Dean making a small whining sound at the loss but quiets himself.

"I'm going to see if I hurt you okay-" Cas glances down, making sure of whatever he needed and nods, "alright, I didn't do anything to hurt you. Normally there would be some prep involved but-"

"I understand."

Cas quirks a brow, "You do just realize- we had sex. Drunk and influenced sex, right? That you're also the one who bottomed?"

Dean shrugs, "I don't regret it or anything, Cas- it's fine. Besides, that was something I didn't expect to enjoy."

"So you liked it?"

Dean nods, "I did."

"So did I." Cas smiles, his eyes a light hint of blue- lighter than Dean's ever seen on him.

If he can't admit it to himself, he really likes his afterglow.

**…**

Dean wakes to Cas hanging onto him, arms wrapped onto his sides and his soft breaths hitting his skin. What happened last night falls upon Dean's shoulders, the brunt of the realization taken mentally. He and Cas had sex.

He had sex with Cas- and he took it.

Dean doesn't want to wake Cas, doesn't want to really make the thing they did last night come into direct light. The best he can do is just wait amount to when he's not about to have a panic attack and take deep breaths- this shouldn't be too bad. He decides to take a shower, pulling himself from the bed gingerly. Cas nearly wakes, reaching at the sheets for something that's not there anymore.

The water pelts Dean's skin, steam rolling about in the shower. He puts his face in the spray and calms himself a little, trying to put the idea of last night far from his mind and conscious. The soap helps a little, as if it could wash away what he's done and drag it to the drain. Dean steps out of the shower, drying his skin off and walking into the room. He nearly faints to what he sees.

Cas is gone- the door ajar as it hangs on it's broken hinges. Dean runs out, looking for anything- only to see a car speed off with Cas in the backseat. Dean curses, grabbing all the stuff and just throwing some boxers and a tee on and jumping into the Impala. His arm hisses as he speeds down the highway following the direction of the car that left.

Dean pulls out his cell, knowing full and well this isn't the best idea- but he has no other choice, "Sam- fuck Sammy- pick up!"

"_Dean?_ "

"Sammy- they got him. They fucking _got _ him-"

Sam sounds like he drops something like papers, "_Oh shit- what do you need me to do? _"

Dean relays the license plate number to him, "I need any hits or something you've gotten on it, I can't let them hurt him Sam- _they can't hurt Cas! _"

"_Just calm down! _" Sam sounds frantic, "_Uhh- there's been some speeding tickets on the plate, and an address._"

"Sam- he doesn't have much time-"

Sammy reads out the address, wishing Dean luck as he hangs up the phone, telling him he hopes he gets Cas back. Dean supposes the Impala was a dead giveaway, or that Cas didn't get to drive that far from the dead bodies they created- but it's the past and Dean can't change it. He guns it down the road, engine chugging as he hopes to dear god he gets to him in time.

The thought of anything happening to Cas is crazy, especially when it's his fault. He should have woken Cas- should have been more apt on protecting him. God, he fucking sucked at this. If Cas could make it a day with him under his care then Dean would be amazed. Cas meant a lot to him, he finds as he speeds down the road, that Cas has become his life.

Maybe for a reason- because Atchison never suited him, never pleased him. Those countless nights he'd spent patrolling the streets of a town he never cared for, a job he'd grown used to and tired of. Maybe that's why leaving was so easy, that taking his few belongings and hitting the road was the best thing he could do. Cas was right there with him. He killed for him, had helped him when he wasn't in his right mind, and maybe fucked him in ways he never thought were possible- but he did. That's more than anybody's done for him in his whole life- that throughout this whole entire mess of death and blood Cas was the only thing solid he could hold onto. He was the only one there for him. As Dean was to Cas.

They were all they had anymore.

**…**

Castiel feels the hand reach his face, the palm knocking the wind out of him and causing blood to fill his mouth. He spits it out onto the concrete floor, hands bound behind him and pulling on his shoulders. Once he was out of this he was going to shoot all of these bastards in the head. The man who captured him snickers darkly, popping his knuckles and turning his back to Castiel, who sends a glare towards the rumpled fabric.

"You already know why you're here Castiel-" he flicks his fingers, a tie or strip of fabric coming into Castiel's mouth to gag him, "for trying to stop my little game. Did you really think you could outrun me?"

Castiel knows exactly what he's talking about. It's about the frozen accounts- the money he stopped from flowing, the money that they needed. He grunts against the gag, tongue pushing onto the offending fabric as it fills his mouth and taking away all its moisture, making it dry and sandy.

"Usually we just retract our money before this happens, cut our losses- but with you- no. You tried to take our whole network down from one single computer."

Castiel watches, the man's shoulders shaking a little with his laugh. It grows, more in volume and anger, "To think- a tiny man like you-" the man spits out, "could try to bring us all to pieces. Broken, dismantled. Nothing more than a husk of the organization that we used to be. One tiny man with one computer- trying to be a hero. Can you believe it?"

The man looks down to the floor, a dark sneer playing on his face as he chuckles, shaking his head. Castiel tries to swallow, spit getting absorbed into the tie instead of sliding uneasily down his throat. He needs to get out, needs to get back to Dean. This is a trap- to lure Dean out and to gut him before Castiel as nothing more than livestock at a butcher shop.

Castiel tries to move his tied wrists, only making the course rope burn into his skin, permanently marking him as theirs, "Look at you, trying to get out."

The man smirks.

"Where's your precious cop?" he turns to the doors, arms raised in a shrug, "I guess he'll be missing the main event."

The man walks over to a small table. From what Castiel can see it's littered with rusty, dirty tools and small metal pans. The man puts a finger to his chin, considering which tool will work best for this- considering what will touch his fine skin, considering a fate that Castiel couldn't decide even though it was his in the end. The man made a small grunt and smiled at the tool of choice. It was a small, blunt knife. The edges were serrated and the handle was doubled to be brass-knuckles. The tips weren't just smoothe, no, they had small diamond like shapes peaking out and glinting as Castiel noticed them. They were small enough to not break with wear, but large enough to make sure the scars they dealt would never heal right.

"You like my little toy? It provides maximum comfort... to the owner, that is." He slips the "toy" on to his large-beefy fingers. Once on, he flexes his hand in and out, getting used to the feel, Castiel supposes.

He walks back to stand in front of Castiel, looming over him- showing off his power. The man's head covered the bald light bulb in the room, shadowing the only reassurance he had. The light hanging from the wire was something he thought would never leave him while he went through this, and now it was practically gone. Just like Dean would be if he fell for this trap.

How the hell we he supposed to get out of here? He needed Dean to not come- to not walk in to see a large man raking the rusted tip of a knife down his cheek, to not see the man press the brass into Castiel's thigh- hard enough to almost feel it through his femur. Castiel hoped he would not see anything that would loom in Dean's dreams at night- dreams were the only way they could get away from it all, and if this polluted Dean's or his own, then where were they to go? What would they do, then?

"Look at me!" the man yelled.

Castiel hadn't realized that he'd closed his eyes. With a shaky breath and an uncertain anxiety looming in his stomach, he started to pull apart his eyelids- ever so slowly, to see the man before him. His eyes are some how glowing in the dark, constricting on his as the blade is only inches away from Castiel's form.

"I want you to watch as I rip you open, only in places you can't die from immediately, but will make you feel an everlasting pain. I don't want you to bury yourself in your dreams and thoughts, making yourself oblivious to what I'm doing to you. No, no, no-" he chuckled, "I want you here, with me- feeling every second of it as I slice your flesh like you did to my men. You're going to live through it, know what it feels like to be under my blade and you know what? I'm going to enjoy every second of it." the man flashed a Joker-esque smile.

Castiel shrieked behind the cloth, his eyes filling with hot tears as the man took the knife and ran it down his right cheek. His hands formed into fists, no doubt white knuckled and nails leaving half moons on his palms as he struggled against the ropes snagging him to the metal chair. The man kept laughing while he had his "fun".

It was a continuous pattern: cut, press brass-knuckles into gash and twist, then he'd just start all over again. Castiel's throat was hoarse from screaming. He was so dehydrated he couldn't even cry anymore. All he could do was slightly moan and whimper out of pain, clench and unclench his hands, and hope that there was a God to answer his prayers.

"Having fun?"

Castiel's head shoots up, a familiar voice that makes him feel relieved and even more horrified- which one he should choose he doesn't know. Dean stands in the doorway, pistol aimed at the man who has been slicing and dicing up Castiel for whoever knows how long- a dark chuckle rumbling in his ribs as he clenches his knife tighter.

"Didn't they ever teach you in the academy to search places before you enter them?"

"Yeah well-" Dean pulls the trigger, bullet hitting the man in the chest, "they also taught me how to shoot."

Castiel sags in the chair, a breath he didn't know he was holding escape his lungs. Dean runs over, gun in hand as he overlooks Castiel and his wounds. He's sure there's blood everywhere: soaking, saturating, dripping and pooling. Dean curses, seeing all the crimson and it's source being Castiel who's beginning to shake in the chair.

"It's okay Cas- I got you, it's alright now."

Castiel can't help it, he can't help the shuddering sobs escaping him. Whether it be from the pain or from Dean looking so disgusted at the state he's in, Castiel doesn't know. He can't deny that there's broken cries escaping him- tears lining his cheeks that he didn't think he had anymore. His voice is still blocked out from the gag, teeth sliding against the fabric and Castiel doubling over in the metal chair. Dean tries to comfort him, undoes all the knots and rope around his raw skin.

"D-Dean…" Castiel somehow manages, voice small and quiet.

Dean picks him up, holding Castiel in his arms and having his Colt at the ready. Castiel clings onto the fabric Dean's wearing, like the tee was somehow keeping him alive and grounded- if he let go it was all over. Dean shushes him as he cries, face pressed into his skin and gasping out into the air. Emotions and pain rack his body, bones shaking and muscles shivering. His blood chills in the air as Dean takes him outside of the building he was in, placing him into the Impala's backseat and speeding off.

"Just hold on Cas, we're almost there-" Dean sounds so uneasy, so uncertain of what he's saying- that if he says it to Castiel he somehow is assuring himself, and his doubt sinks into his words, "fuck, this is all my fault."

Castiel wants to say it isn't- that none of this is. It was because Castiel got in over his head, thinking he could bring all this bad to a halt at the click of a button- erased, deleted. It didn't matter he didn't realize then what he was doing, that he was putting a sentence over his head that was unfathomable- it mattered that it was his fault and his alone. Not anyone's- and especially, not Dean's.

But his mouth can't form any words, his body unresponsive to most of his commands. He's feeling trapped, especially when Dean is trying to put him somewhere and to have him react to him- needs him to. Castiel wants to reach out, grip his hand and tell him it's okay. In those few moments he has left of precious consciousness, he sees Dean's eyes and hopes they can tell him all the words he can't construct as he slowly fades into the black.


	5. Chapter 5

***Author's Note: _**

**-There is mention of PANIC ATTACKS in this ch. ****SO YOUR DISCRETION IS ADVISED.-**

**Other than that, it's chill and with fluff and smut.**

**ENJOY!~**

* * *

Dean hears the beeping of the monitors nearby, the only thing telling him that Cas is alive, but he can't bring himself to look up. It's like the guilt he's gotten from Cas being so fucked up has literally pushed on Dean's neck- making him unable to even look at what he's done. What he's done to Cas.

"Fuck…" Dean whispers, his hands covering his face in attempt to somehow keep it together. He's failing.

How could he though? They were in a hospital- Dean's last resort- and Cas is lying in the bed and had been for almost three days straight. The doctors that would come in or pass by would give their sympathies to Dean- like he deserved them. If only they knew, knew that Dean was the reason Cas was withering away in a hospital bed- was the reason that he'd gotten in this mess in the first place. Dean shouldn't have taken him off grid; especially when he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

Dean sighs out, throat hurting and eyes brimming with a few tears he probably should have already shed- and it hurts. It hurts knowing that this is all his fault, that Cas could die because he was so in over his head with being a police officer. But you just can't walk off like that, you just can't leave everything and expect it to just get easier. As Dean looks at Castiel's relaxed face, eyelids fluttering and oxygen tubes lining his face- he really needs them to be taken off, because they always cause a prick on his skin for how off it is. Cas shouldn't need them, should even be here.

"Cas this is all my fault…" Dean breathes out, still glaring at the tiles as the second hand ticks on the clock- the only sound in the room other than Dean's uneasy crying and Cas' machinery.

The beeping furthers Dean on, a few tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks, "Oh fuck Cas- I'm so sorry…"

Dean can't help it now, the few tears growing in number as they slide along his face. His breaths are quick and sharp, hands trying to wipe away anything that shows how broken he is with himself- how much hate he has pent up for Dean Winchester because he can't do a simple job right.

"I p-promised you-" Dean sobs, "I promised t-that I'd keep you safe, that you didn't have to worry about any of this. And I fucked up. I-I fucked up so bad. This is all my fault, Cas. I should have known what I was doing instead of just taking you and running. I broke it Cas- I broke my promise to you. You here in this- bed, because of me. Because I can't even keep you safe… _Fuck…_"

Dean looks down onto the floor, running his fingers through his hair as he cries quietly. There's nothing more he can do- and if he could, he probably wouldn't let himself. Cas is still unconscious in the hospital bed, the machines beeping in a mocking way, each sound it makes sending Dean deeper into his personal hell and despair.

"Dean…"

His head shoots up, tears welling at his eyes as he gives a small laugh mixed with a sob, "Oh _Cas…_"

"Dean… are you okay? …" Cas sounds so fucking tired.

"Don't worry about me dammit-" Dean pulls his plastic chair closer to the bed, "I want to know if you are."

Cas shakes his head, "I'm fine Dean- you shouldn't be crying."

Dean shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, "Yeah well I am because this is my fault, Cas."

"No it isn't."

Dean snorts in disbelief, "I don't believe you."

"I got myself into this, Dean… I tried to stop the Morristons when I should have known better. Don't think for one second that my actions apply to yours, and that the consequences are yours as well."

Dean meets Cas' gaze, it's stern- even though he just woke up and he's on drugs that Dean can't even begin to pronounce. Dean wants to disregard Cas' words, but as he takes in how serious he looks- Dean finds that the words escape him. He quiets down, sinking a little in his chair and looking away. He knows it cowardly, to avoid Cas' eyes and to sulk in his chair- but Dean does it anyway. He already hates himself for all this.

"Dean, look at me."

When he doesn't, Cas' fingers pull his face up by the chin. This time his eyes are soft and worried, his mouth set in a firm line. Dean leans a little into the touch, thinking that for the longest time Cas wasn't going to wake up- that he'd never feel those fingers on his face again. Cas gently runs his thumb over Dean's skin, Dean fluttering his eyes closed and letting out a stressed sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well."

"Thanks for the deduction, Sherlock."

Cas huffs, "How long was I out?"

"Two days."

Cas' thumb grows a little stiff to Dean's words, his breath hitching as they are processed. Cas had been out cold soon after Dean got him out of the Impala to the emergency room- and it scared him half to death. Dean looks to Cas, seeing that there's worry lines forming in his brow- ones that shouldn't even be there.

Dean furrows his eyebrows, "Hey, don't scrunch up your face like that- you shouldn't be beating yourself up over this."

"And neither should you."

Dean's tongue stalls a little, his reply taking a few moments to form, and when it hits the air it's quiet and soft, "Yeah well, I thought you were dying."

Cas sits up then, grunting a little. Dean moves to go stop him, but Cas grabs his wrist. He looks determined, so Dean lets him do whatever he was initially planning on. Castiel sits up fully, grabbing onto the lapels of Dean's shirt and pulling him close. Dean thinks he's going to kiss him or something, but instead Cas puts his forehead to his. Either way, Dean finds the contact relaxing, his shoulders falling a bit as he feels Cas' breath on his skin.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I may get hurt, I may get sick- but I won't die, not on you if I can help it. I couldn't imagine what these past forty-eight hours have been for you, and I'm sure they were hell- and I owe you so many apologies for putting you through such a thing. This shouldn't get between us- because I'm here, I'm awake, and I want to stay that way. I don't like that you've been beating yourself up over me, or that you've been crying at my bedside saying it's all your fault when it's not. It hurts- especially when I open my eyes and see you so broken beside me, not even able to look at me because you think you can't be able to handle it. It's not right Dean- it's not."

Dean closes his eyes, breathing in something that he's grown to know is Cas. It's a little different now, the undertones of the hospital mixing in with it- but overall it still brings Dean back down to Earth. The beeping of the machines seems to be drowned out in Dean's mind, they only thing he can pay attention to being Cas and his form pressing against his. Dean takes in deep breaths, trying his hardest to memorize the fall of Castiel's chest and the feel of his breath on his face- it's all so surreal.

Dean doesn't even flinch when Cas gently presses his lips to Dean, soft and barely there, his hand going to cup Dean's jaw and going into his hair a bit. He opens his mouth, dragging his teeth on Cas' lower lip and shifting closer and closer until he's on the edge of the bed. Cas' hand is moving up and down a little as he slides his tongue in, exploring Dean's mouth and moaning a little from it's taste. Dean wants to keep going, wants to keep kissing Cas till his lips are sore but he can't- Cas isn't ready for that yet. Dean pulls away, a little solemn to the loss of Cas' flesh against his mouth, but fights it back as he sees Cas' confused face.

"Not till you're better." Dean whispers, "Not till I know you're really okay, that it won't hurt you."

"We can still kiss Dean…"

Dean smiles a little, looking down to their intertwining fingers, "Yeah well, let me tell you it'll lead somewhere else real fast."

Cas chuckles lightly, bringing Dean's hand up to kiss the back of his palm. Dean sits in the chair, a warm grin on his face while Cas presses his lips on every inch of his hand, the knuckles and all- making Dean feel like some princess or something. Cas sits back a little on the mattress, still holding onto Dean's hand as he lets his eyes drift close.

"Let's hope I get better soon…" he mumbles.

"You and me both, Cas- you n' me both..."

It feels like the weight has lifted off his neck, finally being able to look at him and not feel the gut wrenching guilt he's been growing used to. Dean watches as he falls back asleep. He looks just like he did moments earlier- Dean crying beside him and thinking he was the cause of this. Now, the only thing different is that there's a warm, light feeling in Dean's chest as Cas' fingers tighten a little around his as he sleeps.

**…**

Cas is discharged from the hospital the next day, directions from the doctor on how to clean his stitches and to see someone medically once they need to come out. Cas nods, getting his prescriptions and getting into the wheelchair as the nurse pushes him out. Dean's leaning against the Impala, a wide grin on his face as Castiel comes out of the hospital, mouth turned up and eyes crinkled in the corners.

"You ready Cas?"

"I have been for a while now."

Cas sits in the front seat, relaxing as he hears the all familiar sound of sighing leather, Dean getting in beside him and waving to the nurse. He puts the Impala in drive, looking over to Cas with a wide grin on his face as he turns up the radio.

"Where are we going?"

Dean smiles, "I don't know- we're somewhere in Wichita Falls I think- or Fort Worth- I want to drive us to San Antonio or Dallas. Sound good to you?"

Cas nods, looking towards the open road ahead of them, "Sounds perfect."

**…**

Dean likes Texas- actually, loves it. He likes the wet, moist heat it brings and the warm kiss of sun to his skin. He and Cas have been able to wear more t-shirts now and be less concerned of rain and all of that when driving. It's perfect- like a summer drive with the windows rolled down, radio blaring with your lover in the passenger seat. Dean lowers his foot on the gas a little, enjoying how the Impala revs under his toe to the lightest touch. He's got to give those goons some credit- they have taste.

Cas is looking out the window, watching the dry dirt and rocks fly past, a smile on his face that's ear to ear. Dean loves the way his hair whips around whenever the wind blows it as they drive, loves the way Cas' skin is soaking up a healthy tan from all the sun they're getting. He didn't know how he could do it- but he pulled pale and olive off easily. It just made Dean love him more.

"We should stay here for a bit."

Dean looks over, completely surprised by Cas' words, "Really? I thought running was our best shot."

"Well-" Cas looks away from the window, smiling widely as his blue eyes connect to Dean's, white teeth and baby blues so clear Dean thinks it's postcard worthy, "I like it here. I like it a lot. Going by how much we've been driving in circles I'd say you like it too."

"I was afraid you might notice…" Dean admits.

Cas chuckles, "Of course. Lets get somewhere on the border of the city- not too far away but with more privacy than other places offer. That sound good?"

"That sounds perfect."

Cas grins, holding one of Dean's hands as the Impala roars down the lone highway for the fifth time that day. The radio hums as they drive down the road, wind caressing their faces as the Impala rolls down the asphalt smoothly.

They find a small apartment on the edge of San Antonio, the place is charming and catches Cas' heart instantly. Dean enjoyed the smile Cas sported as he walks through the apartment, mouth upward at the corners and eyes taking in every square inch of the place. Dean said they'd take it- making a special deal with the owner because he took a liking to them- especially after Dean told him all they had was the Impala and the things in it to there name. Dean waits till he pulls out of the driveway, running up to Cas who jumps in his arms and twirls around laughing.

"I think we should celebrate." Cas' smile is the brightest Dean's ever seen it.

"How about some of '_this is our first place together _' sex?"

Cas laughs loudly as Dean wiggles his eyebrows, "Yes!"

Dean winds up gasping as Cas rolls his hips above Dean, his back pressed into the wooden floor. They have to get new furniture for themselves, but right now having their first round of domestic intercourse can be done on their wooden floorboards.

Cas takes his hand and runs it up Dean's shirt, the man below giving out a shaky breath out as the pleasure of Cas' fingers spreads through his nerves. Cas presses his lips against Dean's jawline, nipping at his skin gently, then leaving small kitten licks to his neck. His finger is working Dean slowly- Dean jutting his hips and rocking against Castiel as he breathes out his name in ecstasy. Dean is shaking a little, mouth open and throat contracting. Cas brings it up to two fingers, Dean's movements only growing more and more desperate and demanding friction. Cas hums in content, seeing how much Dean is keening for him on the floor.

Dean bites his lip, leaving a faint scar that he's sure Cas will complain about, as he lets the pulses of arousal beat through him-Cas is above him, and finally about to give him what he's been begging for. When Cas first pushes in, Dean cries out and gives a full body shudder. The volume only increases when Cas starts to roll his hips making Dean feel like it was their first time. Castiel thrusts harder, the intense force makes Dean wrap his legs around Cas to try to get him in deeper, closer. His spine arches, head pushed as far as it can be into the wood- his vocal cords unable to produce a sound equal to what he's feeling.

"Wow-" Cas huffs, "so sensitive are we?"

Dean grunts through his teeth, "Way to ruin the moment, Cas-"

Cas pushes forward, and makes Dean lose his ability to speak again. He can't help how every move Cas makes him unable to function properly- just that it makes him so discoordinated it's ironic. He lifts his hips up, lips trying to reach Cas', the man above smirking as he thrusts, pushing Dean farther into the floor. Dean tries to lift his hands up to Cas, to try and touch him when Cas pins them to the sides of his head, just like he did at the strip club not that long ago. Dean whines, it quickly turning into a moan- but he just wants more of Cas if he's able to.

The holding out doesn't last long, because soon Dean is shuddering and crying out Cas' name, legs clamped down on him. His shout is silenced however because Castiel brings his lips to Dean's, soft and sweet just like it had been when they first did it- minus the drugs and alcohol in their systems. Dean lifts his head to keep the contact going, making noises whenever Cas seems to be pulling away from him or is gone too long. Cas smiles most of the time, enjoying how much Dean wants his touch below him.

"I think our new place has be christened by us- don't you think?"

Dean is huffing breaths, closing his eyes and swallowing, "Yeah, we did a pretty good damn job."

Cas smiles, lifting himself and Dean off of the floor. Dean's sore, but he guesses he owes Cas a lot of this feeling considering he was unconscious for two days. Dean's mind goes back to that moment, Cas lying in the bed- machines beeping and the only reassurance to Dean that he was actually fucking alive on that mattress. It's so terrifying for Dean to think about Cas in that state, or whenever he was hanging onto life by threads in the backseat of the Impala- covered in blood and gasping for air. Dean doesn't like thinking about it or reminding himself- it just happens.

"You're doing it again."

"No I'm not…"

Cas shakes his head, grabbing Dean's by the sides and looking at him with a serious look, "You are Dean- I can tell. That little flex in your jaw, your eyes get darker, face more like stone- you're not the Boxer of Quirinal. I don't have to read thoughts to know what you're thinking about… because it's always with what happened. I told you Dean, it's all okay now."

Dean thought about Cas' words. 'It's all okay now'. Yes, now it's all okay. But what about in the future? When was the next time Castiel was going to get ripped away from Dean's grasp by Dean's own stupidity? When would this be over? Would this ever be over?

Dean felt himself slip into his own dark thoughts. He didn't want to think them- hell no- but they just.. happened. He wanted to be strong and stoic for Cas. Put a nice smile on his face and pretend that they can have the apple pie life with a white picket fence, a large dog and sunday night dinners on the couch. But he couldn't. Those thoughts were overruled and plagued with thoughts of a cold bed, darkness, and death.

"Dean, Dean! Look at me, Dean." Castiel was shaking Deans shoulders, effectively snapping Dean out of his horrid thoughts. Dean looks up, eyes meeting Cas who's are extremely worried. He feels Cas' hand come up to his face, and Dean sighs out a shaky breath and leans into the warm palm. His fear had been building, and he supposes it was sort of a panic attack of sorts- he just calms himself, letting Cas' words soothe him like he intended.

"I told you- there's no need to worry."

Dean just sags against him, "I know… I just do."

Dean spends the rest of the day trying to stay in peace, those thoughts lingering on his mind as the clock ticks. Cas starts moving things into the apartment- Dean helping as best as he can, stopping sometimes when something he sees bothers him. Like a bad paint job or broken shelf. Just little things he tries fixing as best as he can. Cas walks in on him sometimes, noticing the tool bag there on the floor Dean found in the closet, screwdriver out and turning on a loose screw. He smiles, saying Dean should become a carpenter or something like it. Dean chuckles and tells him he should be a guidance counselor.

Once all of the very limited things are out of the Impala, Cas' hands on his hips as he takes a deep breath- taking in the job he's done. Dean comes behind him, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and smiling into the crook of his neck. The domestic feel was bliss, it was hope.

They finally had a future to look forward to.

**…**

"_Cas- _" Dean shakes through the phone, "_Cas it's happening again…_"

Castiel looks up to his boss, the principal of the school he's been working a for several weeks now. He seems to catch onto what's happening, nodding and letting Castiel off work a little earlier. Castiel gives him a quick thank you, rushing out the door and darting to the bus stop. Dean was having a panic attack, something becoming more and more of a habitual thing for him. He'd call Cas up, all but a bundle of overactive nerves and unrelenting emotions, the fear pouring off of him in amounts Castiel wishes there was a word to describe.

"It's okay Dean- I'm on my way- I'm hurrying."

Dean still sound petrified over the phone, deep baritone rocking like the bus is as Castiel nearly breaks the plastic casing of his phone with his fingers, "_God Cas, I just… it's so much… please- I don't know- I didn't want this to happen again, it just did._"

"I know Dean, we're working through it."

"_I shouldn't be having this many Cas- fuck I shouldn't be having these at all- I'm so fucking sorry! _"

Castiel swallows, the bus so sluggish as it rolls down the road, "I know baby- I'm trying. I'm going as fast as I can… When did it start?" Castiel closes his eyes, taking it in- wishing he could take Dean's pain away through the phone. Wishing Dean never had to go through this emotional turmoil.

Dean huffs out, "_About an hour ago…_"

"Dean…" Castiel holds onto the metal pole, his teeth gritting for a moment, "Dean I thought we said we couldn't put it off if you had one- I know if you're trying to be tough or seem like you're okay- but I can't believe that if you keep hiding these from me… Did your boss make you call?" Castiel knew Dean liked to pretend to be a man of stoic nature, pretending that nothing could bust his think skin or that he was as strong as a greek statue. But in all reality Dean was a man of emotion, on the Myers Briggs scale he would rate as an "F", a feeler.

"_Yes. I'm so sorry Cas- I thought I could handle it, I thought I wouldn't have to call you and it wouldn't be so bad… I just thought about you in your office and something happening and I just… I just couldn't do it Cas- I couldn't keep faking I was alright anymore because of how afraid I'd gotten… Cas- please don't get angry, I don't want you to be angry with me-_"

"I'm not angry Dean- I'm worried about you."

Dean sounds like he's on the verge of falling apart over the phone, "_You shouldn't have to be, dammit._"

Castiel wants to crawl through the phone, that the moments he spends on the bus are ones he needs to be at Dean's side- ones that he's missing because this damn driver doesn't know how to speed when it matters. Castiel looks out the window, the light sunny day growing a different way in Castiel's heart, resting wrong in Castiel's chest as it slowly passes by. The people around him are watching closely, some eying him and the phone at his ear. He wishes there weren't so many nosey fucking people- Jesus fucking Christ.

"BBY- DEANIE WEENIE- that isn't true. We're in this together, and if that means I got to help you through your panic attacks- well that's just fine with me. You've done so much for me, baby- you've given me all you could and so much more. I don't know anyone else who'd drop their life for me in a split second when they barely know me. You saved me in the bank- now it's time for me to save you." Castiel leans his head against the cold poll. The sound of unsteady breathing from the other side of the line makes his stomach churn with uneasiness. He needed to be with Dean a fucking hour ago.

Dean cries out over the phone, broken sobs coming through speaker. Castiel feels his heart drop in his chest, somehow shattering amongst his ribs and his breath hitches. Those words, so deep in meaning and feeling- he knows have made Dean see how far he's going to go. That Castiel has killed for him, taken knives for him and laid bleeding out and even nearly died for him. That hand that reached out from the flames and rubble, the hand that later held his as they ran for each others lives- the hand that touched his face and carried him when he was almost dead. The same hand he held onto while he made sweet, slow love to him. Of course Castiel was going to be there- he always would be.

"It's okay baby- I'm almost there." Castiel whispers sweetly; hoping Dean can't hear his own panic.

Castiel hears Dean's broken voice come through the speaker, "_Oh Cas- what did I do to deserve you? _"

"Nothing."

Dean huffs, "_Why is that Cas? _"

"Because you earned me the moment I saw you."

Dean stops, "_What? _"

"I knew once I saw you in that bank I was falling for you, Dean. I could see the beauty in your soul and just see all of you laid out for me to see- though there were scars and there were bruises- I still found you so beautiful. You may think you're defective, or that this is something holding me back- but Dean- I love you for all your imperfections and wounds, and I find you so human for them. Of course I'm going to stay with you- for as long as I can." Castiel feel sympathetic eyes look at him. He hates being under this view, but if that's what he has to withstand to calm Dean, then so be it.

Dean gives a sound, but Castiel doesn't need the phone to hear it. Dean looks up, tears welled at his eyelids as Dean runs over. He wraps his arms around Dean- voice raspy as he cries out onto Castiel's shoulder, soaking through his pastel yellow button-down, making his shoulder damp.

"It's okay Dean- I got you."


	6. Chapter 6

****Author's Note: _**

**I am so sorry...**

**Truly.**

**ENOY!~**

* * *

Dean sits rocking in Cas' arms, so grateful- so terrified. He thought something had happened, something went wrong- just so much going wrong. He's glad that he has Cas in his arms. That he can feel how solid he is and that he can smell the scent of Cas wafting off of him. He stays there a little bit longer; smelling and listening to the very much alive and breathing of Cas' chest. Dean takes in a shaky breath. He doesn't want to burden Cas with anxiety attacks, or that he makes him leave work when they can't afford it- but dammit Dean can't help it. Whenever Cas is out of his sight he just gets so worked up, like his stomach's about to fall of an edge- except it never does. It builds and builds, teetering, like a Jenga tower, till Dean thinks he's about to fall into one and it just lets up a little more.

"What caused it this time?"

Dean grips onto Cas' shirt tightly, "I thought I saw my mom…"

"Your mom? …"Cas whispers into Dean's shoulder, "That's a first…"

Cas already knows about Dean's mom dying. He was four living in Lawrence, Kansas- a small town Dean barely recalls when it comes down to it- but for good reasons. Mary died when Dean was four because someone arsoned their house, the police later finding the drunk man who did it and putting him behind bars for life. It's what led to Dean become an officer of the law in the first place. It didn't help his anxiety issues when he thought he saw her for a few moments.

There's a nod from Dean, who's still clinging onto Castiel for dear life, "I know… I also thought of you getting hurt again and it didn't help me any." Castiel cringed at how small Dean sounded. He hoped the man in his arms didn't feel the slight jolt, and if he did he didn't say anything. That was so normal now, Dean sounding small, but it still hurt like when it first started up.

"Of course it didn't Dean, I thought we agreed on that whenever you had one you'd avoid what triggers you- if you can help it." Castiel mummers into the crook of Dean's neck, rubbing small circles into the clothed back of his lover.

"I know I know-" Dean sounds so useless and he hates it, "I just can't help it Cas…"

Dean feels the fingers move up to his hair and rub through his hair soothingly, "Come on, let's go home."

Dean lets Cas drive the Impala, his nerves too fried for driving today. He really thought he could manage- hold out on it till he got home and Cas would be there. No reason for him to panic at all, right? Cas being in the living room drinking coffee meant he was fine… Dean sighs, leaning against the leather seat. His partner looks at him from the corner of his eye, gives him a sad smile and then looks toward the road.

"I think it's high time you called Sam, Dean. Maybe a little chat with him can settle you some- and I know it's been a while so it's better now than later."

Dean nods, "I know… Just so much happened and I'm a little worried about calling… for good reason…"

"You don't really have to anymore, Dean- they stopped chasing us for some reason. I don't know why- maybe they thought I died while I was-"

"Don't say that." Dean snaps, voice rough with pain and guilt.

Cas stops talking abruptly, noticing the low tone Dean's voice got. He just simply says sorry and doesn't talk for the rest of the drive. Dean's unsure whether to feel sick with himself for snapping on Cas like that- or to feel repulsed towards those words coming out of Cas' mouth. He just swallows the lump in his throat and waits for their apartment to come into view.

Cas doesn't say much- Dean feels awful again for fucking something else between them up- only hands him the phone and gives him a 'you know what to do' look. Dean takes the phone, trying to loom as apologetic as ever for being so damn out of tune with his emotions- dialing Sam's cell number and waiting for him to pick up.

"_Hello?_ "

"Sammy- it's Dean."

There's a huge sigh of relief over the line, "_Thank god Dean! I thought something had happened since you called last- I've been watching the news for days now! Why haven't you called me?_ "

Dean rubs the back of his neck- for being a phone call it's still awkward as shit, "Things… happened. We just got settled a few days ago."

"_Settled? That's a term I'd never thought you'd use during- this._"

"Neither did I, it just sort of- happened. Where somewhere in Texas- that's all I'm going to say. I got a job doing construction and Cas is a guidance counselor at one of the schools here."

Sam chuckles, "_So it's going well I'm assuming._"

Dean ignores the tiny nagging feeling he has, because it isn't going well like Sam thinks it is- either way Dean tries to make his voice as convincing as possible, "Yeah... it is."

"_So... Texas, right? Gone to any rodeos yet?_ "

"No- but I'll put it on my list of things to do while we're here." Dean slightly laughs, heart not in it, trying to make light of the situation on his side.

Dean wishes that Sam were here as the man laughs again, "_That's good. I'm really glad to hear you two are okay. I gotta go- the chief is coming over and it'll be hard to explain who's on the phone. Can you call later?_ "

The ex-cop chuckles, something he hasn't done much in the past couple of hours, "That's fine- I can manage that."

Sam hangs up and Dean sighs, letting his hand fall a little, grip on the plastic electronic loosening. He pads into the kitchen, sitting at the table and putting his face in his hands. The call with Sam helped a little- but it also reminded

Dean of all the stuff he had left behind. Sam, Bobby, the station, his life- the list could go on forever but Dean's tired of thinking about it. He's happy here with Cas, enjoys the time he spends with him and sure- the sex is a plus- and its more than what he got out of Atchison anyways. Cas is his life now.

"Feeling better, Dean?"

He lifts his head up, a faint smile on his lips as he responds softly, "Yeah- I miss him a lot- I miss all of them…"

"I know…" Cas comes over, sitting on a chair next to Dean, "I know… But we're doing pretty good, right?"

Dean nods, "We are, Cas… It's just my anxiety stalling things for us."

He feels a hand wrap around his, fingers warm and gentle against his own, "It's not stalling anything, Dean. You shouldn't think of it so negatively."

"How else am I supposed to? I can't even go to work without freaking out or having an attack- that's not making progress to me, that's taking steps back."

"It doesn't matter which way we're going Dean- all that counts is that I'm there to make the steps with you. Good or bad."

Dean smiles lightly, "Thank you Cas."

"You're welcome, Dean."

Maybe, just maybe, Dean thinks- that he could be happy like this, with Castiel in their apartment, with their coffee in the morning and slightly off schedules. Though, there may be a hole in his heart that could only be filled by his old life in Kansas, he thinks that this life with Cas could easily patch it up. Mend it, smooth it and maybe one day fill it. As long as he has his Cas, his godsend, he'll be able to do it.

And this time, Dean actually smiles back and means it.

**…**

It's been almost a year that Dean and Cas have been living in San Antonio. It's been a weird situation for them- considering they still fear the Morristons are looming over them and are waiting to strike. However, Dean has been handling it well and his anxiety attacks are less common now, just knowing that helps Castiel be able to go to work relatively everyday without the fear of Dean calling him in a fit of panic. He's still concerned over their situation, has every right to be- but it's getting to the point they can start relaxing more and more at night, not jumping at little noises and changes in the apartment. It helps him get a good night's sleep and not think that Cas has been taken when he wakes to an empty bed.

Right now, Dean's getting ready to head to work, Cas already gone to the school for the day. Dean's about to get inside of the Impala when he feels hands wrap around his neck and something getting shoved into his neck. It's a needle- he supposes- but he blacks out before he can think anymore.

**…**

Dean wakes up, head aching as he blinks. His hands are bound behind him, ropes digging into his skin. His head shoots up, mind racing at what was going on around him and what happened to him.

Where's Cas? Is he alright- is he hurt- is he dead? Where was he? Why are there ropes tying him to a chair? Questions flood Dean's mind, his panic settling in at the worst time possible. Dean grits his teeth, he can't have one now- he just can't. Not if they had Cas or his life depended on Dean being stable. He tries to bury the adrenaline running through him- to calm himself down in any way possible- closing his eyes.

"Look at his little pet…" someone says, someone familiar, "Flailing around like an animal in a trap. Isn't it cute, Chuck?"

Dean opens his eyes, noticing two men standing before him. Dean recognizes them both instantly- Thomas from the strip club and the man Dean shot at the abandoned warehouse to rescue Cas. His breath hitches in his throat, his panic only increasing as their sinister faces are processed.

"He does squirm a lot-" the other says, his voice different from last time because it sounds fucking British, "miss me precious?" he says, running a finger down Dean's cheek with a lingering smile, "I had to go to another fucking country after you shot me- Britain as you've so far noticed. Been there for almost a year until I was fully recouped from your little stunt back at the warehouse."

Dean thrashes on the chair, wondering that if he twists and shouts that they'll just kill Cas if they have him- so he remains quiet. He bites his tongue, grounding himself in any possible way, blood rises up in his throat as he waits for them to continue.

Thomas chuckles, "Isn't it funny Crowley, they probably thought we'd left them alone there in San Antonio."

"Damn straight it is. You boys really think you got off so easily- for killing so many of our men and trying to destroy us? I bet he doesn't even know the true reason we're after little Cassie." he finishes with a deep laugh, bracing his hands on his stomach like they were all old friends sharing an inside joke.

Thomas- who now must be Chuck for some reason- is laughing now, "Probably doesn't. Considering if he did he wouldn't have run off with him in the first place… Tell us Deanie-boy, what was it like loving a liar?" Chuck leans in, peering into Dean's eyes.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about…" Dean grits out.

"He speaks! Praise heaven for it's miracles- you actually don't know!" Crowley laughs, "Chuck this is going to be so much more than just payback…"

Chuck nods, "Hell yeah it is- I say we switch this up a little… Come here, let's discuss."

Dean watches as they step into a separate room. Now that he's finally alone, Dean can look around and take in his surroundings. It looks like an ordinary warehouse or factory building that's seen better days- seriously, what's with these guys and these things? They're so fucking cliche. Either way the ropes burn into Dean's skin, his panic spiking and heart thumping in his chest. He wishes he could be with Cas- far away from here and alone.

The men reenter the room moments later, both with grins plastered to their faces. Crowley is a step behind, both hands in the pockets of his large coat, walking like he was taking a stroll through the fucking park and not like he and his friend just discusses the nature of Dean's "punishment". Chuck is striding towards Dean like a man with a personal vendetta. Which, in all reality, he was.

"You and your little friend made a mistake on trying to hunt me down while I was under a fake identity-" Chuck comes in to lean, whispering his words into Dean's ear like silk, "even though you two look absolutely fuckable with each other."

Dean loses a bit of his steel resolve he has, it weakening to Chuck's words because of how close it had hit to home. Dean had been there- with Cas- in front of a direct Morriston doing pole dances for god's sake! He sees how entertained Chuck is, iris alight with something Dean doesn't want to know as he flashes a quick smile. Crowley laughs.

"Wish I could have seen the show myself- but… I was busy dealing with my man's brain splattered all over your motel room wall."

Dean grunts, "How do you even know it was me, dickface?"

"We ran ballistics on the bullet you used to kill him and the ones we knew you shot for sure when you stole our Impala- good thing though, hated that car… Either way it was an exact match, so there's no doubting it was you… What a righteous man you are- giving your life up for that little blip named Castiel Novak and taking lives in exchange for his safety. Does he know- does he know how much it eats you away inside at night when you're alone? Answer honestly- or we'll shoot your precious little toy down like you did our members."

Dean feels his mouth go dry a tad, the threat sinking in and making his panic crest in a way it never has before, rushing over Dean and drowning him- somehow his voice still steady, "No…"

"No!" Chuck laughs, "Of course he doesn't, does he? You two just love to keep your dirty laundry away from each other and in the dark- Crowley and I having to air it for you, what a shame… Can't wait to see what this does to your relationship with him. For him to know you're destroying yourself on the inside because of him every day."

"That's not true!" Dean spits out.

Crowley chuckles, "Oh- but it is isn't it? I know how sick you got with yourself about it, how you looked in that mirror and saw every spec of blood on your face, knowing it was your finger that pulled the trigger and killed a man-"

"He had his knife at Cas' throat!"

Chuck comes closer, voice deep and low as it drops to a dangerous tone, "If I were you I wouldn't interrupt. Don't want a gag in your mouth and a corpse of your little lover boy at your feet, right?"

Dean quiets himself immediately, he can't do that to Cas- the least he can do is take a gag. It isn't too bad or anything- but compared to Cas lying dead and cold in front of him it was a choice that was easily discarded. He feels the ropes grind against his skin, his heart pound against his ribs- and he holds his tongue.

"Good boy…" Crowley pats his head, "Didn't Chuck call you Freckles?"

"I did." Chuck nods.

Dean wants to be able to punch them both- especially for bringing that up- but he can't, even if his hands were untied. He was doing this for Cas.

There's a sound at the front of the warehouse, the doors sliding as Chuck laughs, "Seems our guest of honor has arrived."

Dean watches in utter horror as Castiel walks forward, face held high as he enters. His blue eyes meet Dean's- and for a split second Dean can see the fear lingering in them as he notices the state Dean is in- and then it's gone just as quickly as it stops a few feet from them, chin tilting upwards as his voice booms through the rusty rafters.

"I've come alone like you asked."

Like they asked? What was Cas talking about? Dean shifts a little in the metal chair, watching as Cas seems to glance at him for a few seconds.

"Good- now… We have some questions for you." Chuck says, "Answer truthfully now- we don't have time for lies, Castiel."

"Why did you try to take us down Cassie- how did you even know about our accounts?" He says with a knowing smile, his right hand on his hip and another had carelessly waving in the air.

Cas lowers himself a little, voice clear as it rings, "It was simple. Thousands of dollars going into a few accounts? I thought you knew how to be subtle…"

Dean feels a fist connect with his face, air snapping him out of his thoughts and questions. He feels blood and spit mix in his mouth, but he's got to be strong. He will withstand this, he can withstand this,he'll roll with anything they throw at him, because it's for Castiel, the man he loves- after all.

"Stop!" Cas cries out, voice breaking. Arm raising, reaching toward his lover.

"We'll stop the punches if you stop fucking lying!" Chuck yells, his fist connecting with Dean's face yet again. Hitting harder, bruising, breaking skin, marking him, and there's only one person to blame. But, Dean, oh Dean, he picks himself back up. Sits up straighter and lets them have at him.

"So, we'll ask you one more time-" Crowley pulls a blade out and presses it to Dean's neck, "-how did you know about the accounts and why did you try to take us down, Castiel?" Chuck asks, his chest heaving with pure anger.

"I-"

"Don't lie, Cassie- or your cop dies like the rest of the people you've killed." He pressed the knife harder into Dean's throat, a little more and it would penetrate.

Castiel looks over to Dean. He's being strong- even though there's a knife to his neck, he's holding up. Holding up for Castiel. Holding up for someone that doesn't deserve his strength.

"Baby, I'm so sorry." Castiel chokes out. A large lump has formed in his throat, hot tears swell in his eyes.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, angel." Dean says, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper and a loving smile on his face.

"This little love fest is nice and all, but we have business we must attend to." Chuck says, crossing his arms and popping a hip to the side.

"Business?" Cas tilts his head.

"Yes- the business of utterly crippling your relationship with Dean Winchester and outing you. That business."

Cas swallows, eyes avoiding Dean as he continues on, "I have nothing to hide from him."

Crowley lifts his brows, "Oh really Cassie- nothing? Everyone's got something- just depends on how bad it is."

"I said I have nothing." Cas snaps.

Dean cries out as a hand hits his kidney causing him to double over in his chair- in intense pain- as it registers on his body. He unintentionally presses into the knife, making him wince in pain as it breaks a fraction of skin. Cas stiffens in front of him, Dean somehow trying to regain himself from the blow- until another unrelenting palm sweeps against his face. He tastes more blood in his mouth, collecting and pooling and being swallowed more than spit. Dean looks up, body pulsing with the raw agony that had been dealt to him.

"I told you Cassie- no lying."

Cas doesn't say anything else related to his secrets, "What do you want?" he asks softly.

"We want the truth- and answers. You say the thing we want and Dean here leaves without another mark." Crowley loosens the knife to Dean's neck, as if trying to prove a point.

Cas' voice somehow gets smaller, "I'll do it… please… don't hurt him."

Chuck smirks, "Good boy- alright. Why did you try to stop our accounts?"

"I noticed the connection…"

"There wasn't one to make Castiel- the only thing you had to go on was how much we brought into our accounts. You're telling me you got that from numbers?"

Cas inclines his head, eyes still on the men before him than Dean, "I guess it was a long-shot to make…"

Crowley smirks, "Ahh yes- and you still hit on target. We recognized you for a reason, Cassie…"

Deans eyes widen at the statement. How could they have recognized Cas? How could they have recognized him without the force noticing?

Chuck turns to Dean, leaving Cas with no where to look. "Has dearest Castiel ever told you about his childhood? About where he grew up, parents, anything?" He asks, making it seem like this event was nothing but a social event.

Dean thinks about the question asked, and he realizes that, no. Cas has never told him about his childhood. He always figured he had a fucked up one like Dean. Dead mother, dead to the world father, only child, the whole nine yards. He looks up to Castiel. Cas' eyes are wide and cheeks are tear stained.

"He had a rough start- just like you did Dean…" Chuck starts, "See- mommy and daddy had jobs- but not the ones you'd take and show people at school when they asked. They worked for us, Dean. Ever since Castiel here could walk and talk he belonged to us, always will. No matter how far he runs, how much he buries himself- we'll find him. We'll take what's ours and not give a damn if it hurts anyone… You see- Castiel here… is a Morriston by blood."

Dean looked to Cas. The man was falling to his knees, falling to the dirty ground, falling away from Dean's grasp. He saw as Cas doubled over, clutching his sides and choking sobs in the concrete.

Dean tried to process it. Cas, his boyfriend, his partner, his lover, the quiet school counselor that made him coffee in the morning, that took his nightmares away, that soothed him when he was in turmoil, that made sweet, sweet, love to him, the man that he fled his home for. That he left everything behind for. That he put all his trust in. That he cared for, that he thought cared for. That he built a home with. Was a part of the group that they were running from. Cas was a part of the group that took his life away from him, that plagued his dreams at night, that hurt Dean in more ways than one.

Castiel was one of them.

"C-Cas…" Dean shakes out, throat aching as his words fall loosely from his lips, "Cas what are they saying…"

Crowley and Chuck seem to take a step back, letting their master plan unfold.

"I didn't know how to tell you Dean…"

"That what!?" Dean spits blood onto the ground, "That all I've done- all I've sacrificed and given to you- all those seconds and countless amounts of energy… All my love… all my heart… for you to just go and- … lie to me like this- to be a Morriston all the fucking time… I took your bullshit- I got fucking shot for you- I let you have me like no one else before- I gave you my love- and you're a fucking Morriston!"

Cas seems to flinch at the name, "Dean-"

"No Cas- just fucking stop it… Just fucking stop…"

Dean can't believe what he's hearing- that the man he loves before him lied to him in ways that he never expected, that Cas can't even fucking meet his eyes. He helped a man run away from his mistakes- not from his past life. Dean looks to his blood on the floor- blood he shed for Castiel-, head swirling as his vision blurs and heart shatters into millions of pieces.

"Dean… I never wanted this- I never intended to give you this…" Castiel's voice breaks, the sound of a cry seeping into his words.

Dean shakes his head, face still to the floor because Dean can't bare to bring himself to look at Castiel, "It doesn't matter… It doesn't matter I gave you love, doesn't matter I gave you my life, doesn't matter that I saved yours countless times over and over again- that I took a bullet for you and so much more… That I sometimes have nightmares about the things I've done to people for you- that I can't keep myself together whenever you're gone... Yeah- none of that matters. That's not what you wanted, is it?"

"You fucking took me, Dean. I never asked for this. I never asked you to take anything for me- to do anything for me. I never asked for your love! But I gave it back, I fucking gave it back and if that's not enough, then what is? What is, Dean, what is? I've saved you too, can't you remember that? Those days I came rushing home to you, to help you, to save you! None of this is what I wanted, Dean! I didn't want to be saved, I didn't want you to take me! I didn't want to fall in love with you, but I did! I fucking did, Dean. Why can't you see that?"

Dean can't function anymore, voice unable to find the oxygen to work. His lungs heaving sobs that hit the air as he cries out, skin dragging against the skin and rubbing raw, blood falling from his mouth like the tears from his eyes. How could he have been so stupid- so foolish- to think that Castiel was a good man- the right man- he thought him out to be. A teller who's better judgement cost him and not a liar who was trying to stop something he created. Something he was a part of, since birth. Castiel tries to come over, to touch Dean's skin softly. Dean feels the fingertips touch his skin lightly, careful of the forming bruises and swelling- so small and ginger. Dean doesn't feel the warmth spread through him, doesn't feel the need to lean into those fingertips anymore. He just sits there, growing more and more disgusted with Castiel touching him- until Dean pulls back slowly, not even bothering to look up a fraction.

"Dean? …"

Dean pulls back till he's as far as the metal chair will let him go, muscles pressing uneasily into the skin and causing him more pain- but he doesn't fucking care anymore. Doesn't find mind that it's digging into welts and cuts that Crowley and Chuck dealt him. He just sits away as far as he can manage, glaring at those fingers that are slowly shaking back from him.

"Dean…" Castiel whispers, voice as unsteady as his hand, "Dean- don't do this… Please… Give me your love, again."

"You don't deserve it… you don't deserve me…" Dean whispers, voice so broken and coarse.

"No, you don't mean that. You don't mean that, Dean. You love me, I know you do. I know you love me! You've told me so many times before. I know you love me. Dean, don't lie. Please, baby. Don't mess with me like that."

Castiel looks up at Dean, seeing his eyes show the truth.

"Dean.."

"Yeah well-" Dean takes a small breath, tears sliding down his battered cheeks, "that was before I knew the real you…"

"You know the real me, Dean! You've known the real me. A name doesn't mean anything- blood doesn't mean anything when it comes down to it! You taught me that, Dean. It was my past! Nothing more- just the life I began with, not the one I created for myself when I finally got the choice to- when I finally decided to leave, to leave for free will. I got out, I've been out. I've been out for so long, Dean. You know the real me... Can't you see this is exactly what they want? They want you to break me, Dean... They couldn't get to me through pain, so they're using you! Dean, they're using you!"

"I don't fucking care! The real you is a fucking Morriston! A drug dealing, manipulative Morriston! I fucking trusted you- you asshole! I killed for you- don't you fucking understand? I gave you everything and more and all I got was a fucking lie! A lie god dammit! That's all I have to show for it- and a broken heart and scars, blood on my hands that I can't tell is mine or someone else's! All because you couldn't tell me who you really fucking were!"

"No, Dean. That's not the real me. Listen to me, Dean! Listen to me! I fucking love you- you know that- I've told you so many times I shouldn't have to anymore, but I do because that's how much I care. You're just listening to what they've put in your head. And you're trusting them over me. Over me, Dean. Over me.." Castiel crumples to the ground. Giving up because Dean's picking them over him. That was his past, his life that he never wanted. Yes, he was a fucking idiot for not telling Dean before, or telling him when he stopped the accounts in the first place- but he didn't want this to be the result. And it still was. Castiel feels like he's been broken in two. He'd rather be shot, be dead, than lose Dean.

Dean feels the ropes slip off his skin, Crowley and Chuck laughing behind him. Dean gets up on quivering legs, hearing their comments about how the righteous man found his fatal flaw- blind trust, blind faith. Such blind faith. Dean has to close his eyes for a moment, ground himself and collect his strength. He can hear Castiel's rough breaths nearby, the wrinkling of his clothes as he shudders and shakes. Dean bites his lip.

"Leaving your little prized package with us? I thought he was special!" Crowley urks.

"I've seen he's no better than you… have your fun… I don't care anymore..."

Dean steps out of the warehouse- limping and coughing blood onto the gravel. He sees the Impala nearby, notices Castiel left the keys in the door and grabs them. He doesn't look back, wheels spinning in the gravel as he speeds away. Away from the pain. Away from Castiel.

Away from everything.

* * *

**Response to guest review: Why thank you! Sorry I didn't take the time to really copy/paste your thing- I'm in a hurry so I don't have much time. I'm glad to know you've enjoyed it so much. Haha. (;**


End file.
